The Break Down
by TattyBogle
Summary: Set about 3 years before Jonathan Crane snaps into madness and realises that he cannot stop himself becoming an immoral monster even when given everything to hope for. Crane x OC, Riddler and Joker have essential roles. As well as our Batsy, of course!
1. I'm Not Your Friend

_I didn't know if to place this in Batman Begins or the comics, but I put it here even though it is set before Batman would be around he's here anyway!. My Jonathan Crane works at Arkham and the University and this is set about 3 years before anything too disastrous occurs in his life. His back story will follow that which is well loved and known about his Great-Granny and the Aviary. _

_This is my first, I am a newbie to the writing. Even though I wrote this about a year or two ago (Meaning it won't chronologically fit to our current time). _

_Need I note I own nothing Batman, only my way overpriced merchandise. _

/-^1^-\

I'm Not Your Friend.

"Good morning Dr. M..ack-lee-odd?"

"Macleod," she said.

**Ma-cloud**, not Mack-lee-odd. She held her smile in place. She had yet to encounter one of these people who could say her damn name properly. She really didn't want anything to put her off in her life over here, but that just somehow irritated her. Alison was something of a prodigy. And if she'd have worked damn harder she'd probably have been acknowledged in that way too. However, she did get her thesis in within a year and a half just because she could. So she was only 22. Everyone had been fairly surprised. She pursued something a little grander than the typical fresh post-graduate student. Arkham Asylum in Gotham City. Oh, of course. This was going to be too much fun for her.

"I apologise. My name is Dr. Penrose."

"I do remember you," smiled Alison curiously. It was a little unnerving but Dr. Penrose didn't look properly enough to notice. Almost ... _mocking. _

"That's very good! I'm glad you do. You'd think I'd remember how to say your name a bit better then, wouldn't you?" he giggled. Behind him, Alison raised a sly brow of disapproval. "Right this way, I'll introduce you to the staff and then go find whoever I placed you under."

"I'm under someone?"

"Yes, dearie-" _Don't call me dearie _"-we have a very specific way of running things and until I have written up your schedule I cannot have you doing things your own way in spite of your excellent achievements."

"Okay," she said, pissed at the lack of independence, "so who am I with?"

"It's slipped my mind. I'll be sure to check whilst you get to know a few faces," he said, opening the door, "everyone. **This **is Dr. Alison Ma...Mac-Lee..."

"MacLeod," she hummed, finding it harder to maintain a smile this time. Was this man really competent enough to be running the place?

"Oh, yes. Sorry," he nodded, "well, I'd like you to all make her feel very welcome as she will be joining us here at Arkham. I'll just go find out who I put you with." With that, he pottered out. A young nurse turned to Alison.

"Can I get you a coffee?"

"No thank you."

"Oh my God, you're Scottish!"

"From Inverness," shrugged Alison. How many more people would do that? She found her accent to be rather damped down from her time in London.

Her lack of conversation had brought silence down on all of the room. Some people continued staring at her, but some people turned away and shared a look of hesitancy with a fellow co-worker. For at least 5 years, give or take at few months, the staff at Arkham hadn't changed besides one exception. But he was a conceited little child compared to the others and in their eyes he just got lucky. She wasn't going to last long at Arkham. She'd be ridiculed for everything possible.

There was something about her no one could quite put their finger on. There were many things such as her clothing, how little she spoke, how frail and awkward she looked, how geeky she looked! The most noticeable things were youth and timidity. Or was it timidity? Dr. Max Penrose re-entered, his grey hair swept back from the apparent jog he had taken to retrieve the information and his glasses sliding down his nose due to the sweat he had broken out.

"I remember! The second I stepped into my office, annoyingly enough. I put you with Dr. Crane!" he said.

That meant naff all to Alison. She raised a brow questioningly. "Follow me!" chirped the vivacious psychiatrist, tanking out of the door. He did have some stamina really, to say he was 58 and still bombed around like a 3 year old. Between the other doctors, an awkward glance was passed around like light bouncing off a mirror. Not _him! _She was positively strange - why did she have to be put with him? He'd either shrug her away coldly and they didn't want to see her angry or only fuel how odd she was.

Dr. Penrose tapped lightly at the door.

"Come in."

Dr. Crane was the freshest face and the only who closest to her age. Probably intellectually matched as well. It had only made sense to put her with him. But he didn't make it a habit to be friendly with others and though Dr. Penrose knew this, he really couldn't see anyone else appreciating Alison. Everyone else would probably be jealous - they'd had to put in nearly a decade of work and she cut it down to 4.

"She's here," sang Dr. Penrose with a delighted tone.

Jonathan Crane's eyes briefly swept up to observe the doorway and flickered back down again. Then shot right back up to Alison. _She _was here. She looked about 18 at a push, hardly early 20's. But that was her skin; it was perfect. She dressed for someone in their mid-20's.

"This is Dr. Alison M... Mac... Oh bother..."

"Macleod?" offered Jonathan. Alison choked on her words literally, emitting a little strangled gasp of surprise which caused both Dr. Crane and Dr. Penrose to glance over at her.

"Are you alright my dear?" asked Dr. Penrose. Alison wanted to smack him.

"I'm fine thank you," she said, trying to sound relaxed, "just swallowed some air by accident."

"Ah," he nodded, turning back to Jonathan who had his eyes fixed on Alison, "As I was saying. Dr. Alison Macleod. I'm sure you remember me telling you about this?"

"Of course."

"Right. I should have her schedule in a week but you'll have her for three so she can assist you and learn the ropes. I'll leave you be for a little introduction to each other. Oh! Dr. MacLeod," he said hesitantly, "this is Dr. Jonathan Crane."

"Hi..." murmured Jonathan.

/-^1^-\ _6 weeks ago. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

Jonathan locked his apartment door and crept down the stairs. The hallways made an awful echo at this time when the activity upon them were only that of ghosts and sometimes a pet. Hardly ever a living soul beyond 11pm at night. Except for him, of course. But he had his reasons. He pocketed his keys when he was out in the open and set off. Tonight though would be no illicit do; he just wanted to stretch his legs after an exhaustive day behind a desk doing multiple clinical assessments. He thought he'd forgotten how to walk until he stood at home time.

_I'm alive._

The streets were empty where he was, but he had made sure that it would be quiet as he just couldn't do his work in the midst of chaos. It wasn't an area totally free from distruption (no place in Gotham bar Wayne Manor possibly was) but it was better than most.

Of all the noises he could actually hear, there was one very striking sound. A soft murmur or moan from somewhere. He slowed his pace and glanced along the edge of the sidewalk, over onto the area below as he identified this as the location of the source of the was a young woman curled up on the floor by the stairs, who appeared to be hiding. Her clothes were far too nice for her to be a tramp and Jonathan actually seldom saw the homeless in tears. She was clutching something to her chest and glancing out onto the sea, her shoulders shaking no thanks to the force of her crying.

He had no idea she was fine though and the way she was laid was disdainful. He assumed anyway something was wrong but surprisingly wanted to know she wasn't hurt. He wandered to the stairs and glanced over.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asked. The woman gasped, her doe eyes coming onto him like a spot-light. He moved away from the railings. "Are you alright?"

"I-I... yes," she lied, blinking furiously to eliminate her tears. If only she knew she had a ton of make-up down her face. Jonathan nodded. Her accent wasn't American. Maybe she was a lost tourist.

"Anyone who cries has a reason. You don't look happy."

"I'm _not _happy. But I'm alright."

"You're not hurt?"

"...No."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes. I just tripped on some glass, that isn't why I'm crying."

"Can I see? I'm not a medical professional but I know first aid?" he offered.

"It's fine," she whispered, "thanks."

"Erm... sure you're okay? Just, I don't want to walk away from someone who might need help so if you do you should just say."

"I'm not hurt; I'm not in pain. I don't ... think I need anything else."

"Cheering up?" he shrugged. She laughed.

"I think I just got cheered up," she smiled. He pursed his lips and pulled a mousey look at her.

"Good to know I could help in some way."

"You made my day," she nodded, smiling a little awkwardly, "I'll... be fine. Well, fine once you tell me the time."

"1:20am."

"Christ. Well, I've outwelcomed my stay here in this little spot. Aren't saying that to get away it's just I need my sleep."

"Sure. Need a lift? I don't mean that in a weird way, sorry. Just think you should be safe."

"No. No thanks. I'll make my own way."

"Alright. Goodbye."

"Bye. Err... Thanks."

"No, thank you," he nodded. _You've just shown me that I do have humanity. **Just. **_

/-^1^-\

Jonathan swept his hand to the chair opposite his desk when Dr. Penrose left them alone. He tried to quickly analyse her but there was something completely unreadable about her demeanour. Was she embarrassed? Alison stalked over and pulled it out, sitting down on the chair.

"Nice to meet you too... properly," she replied, extending her hand. Jonathan extended his slowly, as if he thought she'd pull away and stick her tongue out just before he took her hand. But no - he got to shake her hand.

"You're looking... a lot better."

"Thanks. Got my cut sorted."

"Your unhappiness?"

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Not unhappy anymore."

"So, Dr. MacLeod. What brings you all the way over to Gotham?" he asked, trying to act normal. He couldn't get his head around the idea she was _here _in Arkham, to work. The wrecked woman he met on the beach in a time that seemed more distant than it was.

"The level of insanity harboured in this place. It's all so intriguing."

"Surely there is insanity in Scotland."

"Oh yeah, but it's a different type of insanity. Intriguing in the sense it's beyond average, much like this whole city. Where I am from it isn't quite the same-it's just a pride conflict. Hardly any real sociopaths, just people who wanted a person off 'their turf'. The only real madness was rather more eccentricity. The people who truly had something to shine for had it broken out of them and they were squashed to average society too afraid to ... act..." she said quietly, realising she'd gone on too much, "I've seen some odd things," she added, "Eccentricity isn't bad. It's what happens to it that turns it sour," she said.

Jonathan had suspected she didn't exactly mean that people got carried away with outlandish behaviour, but that sometimes the pure genius in people lived within their often incoherent thoughts. Or conversely it rages out uncontrollably into thoughts too rational and well thought to breed something deadly.

"You know," he sighed, taking his glasses off, "I really agree with you."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Anyway, what experience do you have in psychology?"

"I assisted teaching psychology for two years, and I also worked for a year and a half studying criminal profiles, and helping out in court cases. But I have just graduated."

"Ah. No wonder you look so young."

"You don't exactly look old yourself Dr. Crane."

"I'm getting on, perhaps. But I've years left before I consider youth completely extinct. Say, Dr. MacLeod ... how old are you actually?"

"I'm 22."

"You're _that _young?" he questioned, seeming surprised and raising a brow, "you're younger than I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

Jonathan didn't want to be conversational. He'd already dropped his mask by getting curious over her, again. He dropped the attitude quickly and sat up straight.

"I'm not quite sure to be honest. Come on. You can shadow me in my routine," he said, standing up.

/-^l^-\ _Following Evening. Thursday. _/-^l^-\

Jonathan quickly walked into his office, avoiding people. He pulled the blind up which had direct view over all of Gotham and searched the skies. _No light_ he thought to himself and set back out of his office, thinking about how peculiar Alison was.

No denying, she was. There was both confidence and shyness. It was contrasting. She cast a glare which seemed challenging. Bloodthirsty for control, which seemed justified because it was humble and whatever respect she demanded she deserved. Not that she got it from the bunch of corpses working in this place.

She stood up for herself too. Well opinionated. Something he'd failed at. Jonathan was curious as to whether all British people were this way, he'd been to England, but not Scotland. In England... they seemed snobby; or plain arrogant. Not Alison. She really was unique, Jonathan felt. Or maybe that was Scotland...

He walked slowly down the corridor, checking around and finally, he glanced at a security guard and furtively nodded, and walked off out of sight of security cameras.

/-^l^-\ _Following Week. Tuesday. _/-^l^-\

That morning, Alison wasn't happy. She'd complained to Jonathan about too little hours, after he sent her home at 5pm sharp for the three days she'd worked last week. He'd been almost nasty and told her she could go at 10pm then... and at first she'd been fine about this. But Alison had annoying habits, breeding from her days at university, that she hadn't grown out of 4 years on.

Alison's alarm clock started singing for her to get up. For once, she didn't feel like pink fluffy objects. So, she picked it up and lobbed it-to no avail. She pulled herself up out of bed and stood on a chocolate wrapper. She blinked and picked it up, heading for the alarm at the same time.

A late night movie, a glass of red wine or a cocktail and chocolates. That's how it was. This was her annoying habit. She put the film on at 10:30pm when she reached home after hailing a taxi and pulled out all the chocolate she'd hidden... from herself. _A little wicked delight, it's only a one off_, she'd insisted in her head. She'd lobbed her heels at the table and stumbled upstairs, not yet feeling the tiredness.

Chocolate hadn't been a good agent to call, because at 12:20am when he film had finished, she was licking the chocolate wrapper with little self control. And at 1am she dropped off. She didn't believe the alarm clock was telling the truth now at 6:40am.

She brushed her teeth and slowly, still in her nightwear, stumbled to her wardrobe. She clumsily rifled through the clothes she owned several times before realising she'd not even chosen what to wear yet, even though she'd thrown her hand back towards the bed like she had selected something to put on. Baffled by herself, she walked back to the bathroom and turned the shower on. Water oozed out the showerhead and she turned the dial to the coldest setting.

She then held the showerhead to her face until she gasped at the freezing cold water. Swallowing some accidently, she ran out of the bathroom coughing, grabbing a towel as she went. She was leant over her bed when she realised there was a knock on the door. She ran to her bedroom door but realised she was the next best thing to naked.

Stumbling down the stairs with a dressing gown she grasped her keys and flung the door back. She scowled at the postman.

"Deliver-"

"I have a post pox," she cried, hidden and dripping wet. The postman looked at the package and back at her and quickly threw it over.

"It's full. Empty it...this... this is ... urgent though... It's from Arkham," he said. Alison observed.

"I'm not a patient. I'm a doctor of psychology, half-wit!" she barked as he backed down the pathway of her house. He shrugged.

"Whatever lady. Even doctors are patients there!" he yelped, getting in the car and driving off as fast as he could.

This was something Alison didn't understand. Everyone who wasn't on the inside of Arkham seemed to be petrified if you just mentioned it. It was a place of fear to them. But to the inmates, and the doctors, it was hardly emotion stirring at all. Some of the inmates held more power over the doctors than the doctors did over them. Shouldn't those inmates have been terrified to even consider Arkham? Shouldn't the doctors be the ones with the key's to trepidation?

Alison wasn't all that fussed. She wasn't scared; she didn't skip down it's corridors delightfully - but she was comfortable there.

She trailed back up after making herself a coffee, and turned the letter in her hands to open it when she was back in her bedroom. She emptied the contents. There was a letter and a badge. Quickly skim reading the letter... it was about the badge; which was a name badge. She rolled her eyes and began to get ready again and this time she actually got something from her wardrobe.

As she walked outside (Fully dressed at last) there was a certain smell to the air which was sweet. The whole street looked very sweet. There were some large houses and then the little ones, like the one she lived in. It ended on a cul-de-sac and there was a large house at the end, which she really liked the look of. Apparently it was too expensive for a lot of people to buy; it was beautiful though. Someone cared for it as well because this is where the sweet smell was coming from.

Alison glanced at the person mowing the lawn, and considered going to ask them if they owned the house but thought otherwise when her watch blared a taunting insult about the time to her. She smacked it heavily and got onto her bike, peddling away quickly to get to Arkham on time.

Not before a tyre on the bike gave up though.

When Alison did arrive at work having had to work out the bus route, she was 1 hour and 10 minutes late and it infuriated her more than anyone. She tapped on the door to Jonathan's office but he wasn't in. He came wandering down the corridor just a moment after her try on the door.

"You're late," he barked.

"Forgive me. I slept in, my tyre burst and I haven't any idea how to get here on the bus but it was my only option and that took some time. Nor do I know any taxi lines."

"Taxi lines? Oh, you mean numbers," he said to himself. He'd thought she meant where they drove for some reason. He unlocked the door and letting her go in first, "well, it doesn't matter. You missed nothing short of a mess which was Poison Ivy seducing every male who approached."

"Why not send in a female?" she asked.

"They're all scared of her," said Jonathan, with pursed lips, "although finally someone did help but not after several whips with a vine."

"Kinky," remarked Alison. Jonathan didn't know if to go ballistic or laugh at her sarcastic remark. He cast her a glance but didn't really respond. Alison glanced at his wrist which was looking red and sore. "Shouldn't you get something cold for that? It looks pretty vicious."

"I challenge you to get her under control next time," he scoffed. The worst part was how lightly he'd said it. Where was the venom? It had faded from him there. He tried his best not to be conversational with Alison but somehow she drew him in. He took a deep breath in and just let that occasion slide.

"I'll accept your challenge when I'm allowed to gain a bit of freedom here."

"Who do you reckon you'll be stuffed in an office with?" he smirked.

She hated being closed in with others. She was a little OCD maybe. He'd first noticed when she slipped a book back into place on his shelf and had fiddled until it was perfect. And the spaces, he'd observed when he'd asked her to get a box out of the cupboard and a nurse had shuffled by. He could almost see the shiver than ran down her spine.

"As long as it isn't Dr. Mare or Dr. Brigshaw I don't care," she said, hesitantly though. Truth was, if she didn't have some space she'd go crazy. Furthermore, if the people she was put with were disorganised, she wouldn't be able to stop the needy, controlling aspect of her personality from saying something about it. _I'm not your friend... _thought Jonathan, trying to mentally distance himself.

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><p><em>Review. Then; Onwards!<em>


	2. Dettered

_I thought, maybe in case the first chapter was ambiguous in terms of the direction this would be heading in, I'd add the second chapter just for now. I require reviews, please, cherry on top, thank you, bye. Yet again, not mine apart from Alison. Damn. _

/-^l^-\ _Alison's Fourth week. Tuesday_. /-^l^-\

Alison felt a very peculiar feeling towards Jonathan. At first she'd felt awkward and a little uncertain over how to react to seeing him again. But never in her life had she wanted so much to wind someone up. It wasn't because of his appearance, even though he did look positively geeky and awkward. She'd been through that herself. It was the fact he tried so desperately to stop himself from seeming human. There was something about that which made Alison want to take a psychoanalytic hammer and smash his psyche to bits.

It was her fourth week. She'd slyly remarked he now had no one to sit with and tantalise now she was leaving for her own space, which luckily happened to be an office all to herself as nowhere else was free. Or so that was what Dr. Penrose said - she suspected it was the other staff's dislike of her and Jonathan would either not have been asked or continued to make a barrier between them.

Alison got the perfect opportunity when all of the staff were going out for dinner to celebrate Dr. Penrose's 59th birthday. Jonathan had rejected his invite. She spoke up about the matter during treatment rounds for those patients requiring medication (that was all of them).

Jonathan had been about to comment upon a very sly manoeuvre she had just made. Her foot elegantly flicked the medication cart and she had her back turned, leaving a perplexed Dr. Mare (a grumpy, balding, miserable, git in his 40's) to run after it as it made its way for the stairs. _Very sly. _

It appeared Alison had chosen to talk to him as part of a distraction.

"So, I hear you're not going to Dr. Penrose's birthday celebration," she remarked casually. He felt suddenly confronted.

"Really not my thing, I don't think I know these people well enough to go socialising with them."

"Really?" she asked lowly, "Or is it a wish not to be seen with them because you feel like they are incapable of communicating effectively with you? Or you with them? Social anxiety perhaps? Awkwardness? Timidity?" she chuckled.

Jonathan couldn't believe it. He may even have been gaping with shock, he didn't know. She was laughing at him, humiliating him. It sparked something in him that he didn't suspect he had the gumption for, ever.

"None of those reasons! I'd just be out on a limb. But if you want proof I'll go!" he snapped.

"Oh my, Dr. Crane. Are you sure you can handle it?" she mocked, raising a brow. He would have loved to have strangled her there and then. But Dr. Mare had retrieved the cart and was heading back with it.

/-^l^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. Dr. Penrose's birthday. _/-^l^-\

Jonathan entered the restaurant and immediately found the other staff. He approached and shook Dr. Penrose's hand, giving him the card and wine.

"Thank you," said Dr. Penrose, grinning.

Jonathan scanned the table. Alison wasn't there.

"Where's Dr. MacLeod?"

"Oh, she phoned my office this morning. Said she'd be unable to make it because her sister had come by for a few days without warning."

"Oh really?" asked Jonathan with false inquisition. _Yeah right!_

She was never intending to come. If there was anyone who was out on a limb, it was her. She managed to talk quite easily to him in spite of his wish that she wouldn't. Though, she seemed to have found a love for annoying him. Thoughts of drop kicking her off a cliff or grating her fingers of with a cheese grater slowly invaded his thoughts. Something. Anything to make her pay for this humiliation. _What a little... **bitch! **_EXACTLY!__

"Dr. Crane!" cried a nurse. Apparently he'd been oblivious. "Are you going to sit down?"

"What? Yes," he said quickly, taking a seat.

The food was disgusting.

/-^l^-\ _Following Week. Monday. _/-^l^-\

"So err... how's your sister?" asked Jonathan that morning as he caught up with Alison.

"Hm?" she asked, "Sister?" she questioned, "OH-"

"Too late. You don't have a sister, or if you do she didn't just drop by conveniently on a day you were off out for dinner with your co-workers."

"Miss me?" asked Alison with a sinister look. She took a step closer and glanced up him, eyes of a seductress.

"YOU were the one who provoked me into going-"

"Provoked?" she laughed.

"You are an irritating little bitch," he hissed, then covered his mouth. That was a little venomous even for him. But the corners of her lips were curling into a smile. She was having fun winding him up this way and he was really biting at it. But he had been a little strong with his insult. "I apologise. But you knew what you were doing."

"Or maybe my sister really did drop by. After all, she lives here. But maybe I exaggerated my awareness on the matter."

Jonathan was so confused. Why would she turn around and admit the truth now to him? After she'd put him up and humiliated him like that - encouraged him to sit with a bunch of people he hated from the pit of his stomach.

Of course the answer was clear. She was having too much fun winding him up. She strutted off coolly, like she hadn't done anything wrong at all. He started plotting a few more demises for her in his imagination. All of them saw him laughing with sheer delight as she pleaded for her life before he snatched it away.

/-^l^-\

"Thank you Mr. Greer. I won't be returning for a very long while though and frankly I'm not sure I want to speak with her ever again for the rest of my life... Yes, things really are that bad. Goodbye sir," said Alison, dropping the phone down. She let out an angered sigh when there was a knock on the door.

"Dr. Mac..."

"_MacLeod_," hissed Alison, glaring at Dr. Penrose, "did you have a nice party?" she asked, regaining herself.

"I did thank you! Shame you couldn't make it!"

"I know. I'm sorry. My sister is a little bit spontaneous." _Thank you Jonathan, for reminding me of that. _

"Yes, well. I just wanted to give you this. It's a selection of inmates who you may wish to take for therapy. There are ranging difficulties but I've forewarned you of the extremity of those difficulties."

"Thank you," she said.

"Dr. Penrose!" said a voice from down the corridor.

A tall man, well built to the point of too muscular, dark hair, blue eyes and very expensive suit wandered by the door.

"Bruce! So nice to see you, what brings you here?"

"Have you honestly forgotten?" asked the man... Bruce. Alison raised a brow as Penrose blinked several times and turned to her. _What a daft fool! _

"Dr. Mac... Macleod!" he said, getting it right. Alison almost threw a party. "I'd like you to meet Bruce Wayne. Billionaire and our most generous money donor! Oh of course!" gasped Dr. Penrose, "that's why you're here!"

Alison's office had turned into a function venue suddenly. Bruce Wayne stepped over and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. MacLeod." Right first time. Brownie points to this guy.

"Nice to meet you too. If you don't mind I need to go do the daily rounds."

Psychologists would assist a psychiatrist in the medication round, just to make it quick and easy. Alison didn't know if they could but they'd been doing it years and nothing had been said. In England, she wasn't actually sure they could handle medication, she had no idea. She'd been very eager to come here. Maybe things worked different here.

She bumped into Jonathan, quite literally, on the way down. He grabbed her arms and stood her straight as if she couldn't do it herself. He bit his tongue. He would _not _ask if she were okay. He glanced over her at Bruce Wayne.

"Who's the big guy?" she asked, pushing his hands off. _Damn.._

"Bruce Wayne. He's Gotham's prize billionaire, he makes millions of pounds worth of contributions to this place but nobody knows why. Guess maybe that has something to do with a psychopath killing his parents."

Alison felt a pang of sympathy. He looked so polished up and everything but having your parents murdered must have been pretty tough. It almost most likely meant he'd inherited all his money - and at least he was doing something with it.

"I frankly think he's just a airheaded pretty boy who's perched on a podium looking all nice and kind for society," finished off Jonathan, then realised he was being too casual. He stood aside. Alison's eyes fixed onto his and she smirked, just to remind him she had done what she did. She was really testing his temperament.

She slithered off down the corridor to do her duties, leaving Jonathan infuriated. He slipped back into his office but two minutes later she glanced in.

"By the way," she said, entering without his permission. His fury reached boiling point. "My sister and I haven't spoken for 12 years. She didn't come by," remarked Alison.

"Why would you tell me that!" snapped Jonathan. Alison shrugged and ran her fingers along the spines of several books.

"Did you write all these?" she asked, "I mean... just you?"

"Yes..." he replied, confused. A large number of them were on fear.

"You'd love me. I'm full of fear."

There was a lot of truth in this. Someone who was so frightened as she was claiming or seemed to be would give him a field day... but even though his hand was curled around the canister, ready to load, ready to have fun - he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was actually more fun to know this brash and sly side of herself. The self that wasn't inhibited by fears he knew she had. He knew they were deep. Her confession should have provoked him - it only deterred him though.

He'd wait. She would have a better initial breaking point and when he found it and picked at the wound, he would rip her down for being such a cocky bitch all of the time. She wouldn't get away with what she'd done.

"I was ill, over the weekend. That's the truth as well."

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><p><em>Review. You know you want to. Even if it's bad. Let your anger out. :)<em>


	3. Seething

_I don't own the Batman Franchise until I've got my hands on drugs which make people susceptible to suggestion. _

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><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Same Day. Monday. _/-^1^-\

Bruce Wayne stopped at the door, cleared his throat and threw back his shoulders with confidence before knocking on the door.

"Come in," said Alison, scribbling furiously. She didn't know who to take, none of them were particularly interesting, apart from the Riddler but she didn't even know if that was a sane idea for her. She glanced up at Bruce.

"Hello, Dr. MacLeod," he said. She waved a finger to indicate he could come in further. He let the door shut behind him. "I never got your first name sorry."

"Alison."

"Alison," he smiled, "nice name. Well, I just came by to say that I'm sorry. I felt like we intruded earlier in your office."

"I just needed to be places."

"Well, I still felt a little rude but you'd gone before I realised it. Anyway, I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner as a way to say sorry?"

_Holy God_. Was he asking her out to dinner? Yeah, of course he was _Duh, Alison_. But why? And of all people, why her? This guy could** buy **a dinner date. Bruce read her surprise.

"You know what, I'm sorry. I guess you don't even know me."

"I'm sure dinner is a nice way to get to know someone," she smiled. She couldn't stay inside for ever being unsociable. Bruce grinned.

"Excellent. Well, I will pick you up at 8pm Saturday if that's convenient for you?"

"Oh yeah," she nodded, "I just want to know, if you don't mind, is it a date or just dinner? I'm a little iffy over dates."

"Well, why don't we decide at the end of the evening?" asked Bruce, still grinning. Alison was pleasantly surprised by this. Or was it because there was also something about Bruce Wayne that was furtively tucked away from human awareness that made her a little too curious? Maybe she'd decide at the end of the evening.

/-^l^-\ _Current week. Thursday. _/-^l^-\

"Hello E. Nygma... Mr. E... Riddler..." said Alison coolly.

"YOU can call me Edward," remarked the Riddler, glancing her up and down.

"I like the Riddler. I think it's a cool alter ego," she said once the guards had left.

"Really?" he purred, leaning forward.

"Why didn't write a comic book, Riddler? Or a puzzle book? I think maybe you'd only have one published because you'd want at least one person to solve it before doing another though..."

"I guess I had a lapse of judgement," he said, giddy. This was the best greeting to a consultation ever. She was so cool and laid back it was intriguing!

The Riddler emerged an hour later, chattering happily to the guards as though they were his best friends, and not putting up any sort of struggle or challenging them with a riddle. And best of all, he felt pretty damn happy. She'd talked to him about some of his sinister jokes and told him to rephrase and try and unleash his anger out in a different way. She then threw five Rubik's cubes over and asked him to solve them all. He managed it, but he felt quite relieved by doing so - somehow.

Though he wasn't thinking it now, he was just proud of himself, he wondered if it was simply that she was very persuasive that he actually took on board what she was saying. Even though today she couldn't change the manic attitude he had, she'd work on it no doubt.

"What was that all about?" asked Jonathan, stepping in. He'd started purposely invading her privacy recently. There was every reason to. Alison WAS attractive.

"I feel very violated," she said, glancing over, "this is the third day you've wandered into the room after I've done anything."

"Yeah, Alison, I'm purposely lurking outside until the right moment comes because I'm a creep."

"Mm, bite back," she said lowly. Jonathan flinched. Her tone had been something close to saucy and it was vaguely disturbing. She laughed, giving him a leering look.

"Excuse me?" he asked, trying to regain his mental stability. He recovered. "You _sounded_ like a prostitute then."

"How do you know what prostitutes sound like?" she giggled manically. Jonathan went red.

"Not what I meant, you _cow_!" he sniped, "I... just...know... because they... hit on me. From time to time... All the time," he mumbled, scuffing his shoe on the floor out of nervousness.

"That's because you LOOK like easy money, Jonathan." _When did we start calling each other by first names?_ wondered Jonathan.

"What!" he exploded.

"You look like a bit of a wet blanket," she teased, "of course, their assumption would be that you don't get laid and would like to."

"Get _laid_?" he whispered through gritted teeth, his eyes practically popping through his glasses, "What are you suggesting?"

"It's not what I'm suggesting, since you may well do although with that attitude I don't think anyone is diving under your boxers. If you wear any - you may still wear a onsie," she shrugged, causing Jonathan to literally choke with surprise as his retort was strangled and shoved back down his throat. He tried to speak, but just didn't know what to say. "Go on," she pushed, "bite back, just like you did before," she taunted.

"I don't need to come out with degrading remarks just to make others feel low in order to make myself feel better. You're obviously sad about life and the only way you can compensate your misery is by humiliation," he said.

"You don't need to come out with degrading remarks?" she questioned. But she was pleased with his rationality. "You suggested I am miserable. You're a psychologist, isn't that a hurtful remark - especially if I were?"

"Well are you?" he spat. Alison shrugged, a sharp raise of a brow telling him she wasn't and was just saying what she had for a reaction. "Exactly!" he spat, his hands pressed down on the table leaning over her. _When did I get this close! ... Red suits her- __**What!**_

"You made my day, thank you," she said, with a sinister leer on her face. Jonathan leaned a little closer out of curiosity, gazing at her eyes, falling in to some kind of trap he felt. They were a warm brown colour. _Wow... _

Alison gazed with awe as he stood up and turned around, fists balled up tightly and stormed out of the office, muttering something about himself being displeased with his performance and he was utterly foolish. _He. Just. Lost. _Privately, she chuckled over his fury.

* * *

><p>*<em>Jazz hands* <em>


	4. A Date With Bruce Wayne

_More. Yay! :D_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. Date with Bruce Wayne. _/-^l^-\

Alison twirled her fork elegantly around the noodles. She'd ordered a stir fry. It was the only thing she could agree with. She wasn't feeling so good but she didn't want to let Bruce down without a real reason.

He was impeccably handsome, but just not her type. But there was no reason he couldn't make a decent friend. She just didn't want him to feel different. He had been eyeing up her slightly. She tried not to look uncomfortable about that. He was a nice enough guy, it'd hurt to be on a different level. It was hard for him not to stare though.

She looked like she was from a different era. Alison was the proud owner of a Betty Boop like figure, but with an elegant 1950's feel to how she presented herself. She wore a figure flattering black flowing dress that spread out delicately when it caught the wind but never rode up, smart black heels and her soft bronze hair was spilled over her shoulders, two clips gently pushing the sides up to give it a very classical feel altogether.

"So, Alison. How are you finding Gotham?" he asked softly.

"I haven't really seen much of it besides my front garden, and bits of my street ... and Arkham Asylum. Which sounds amazingly dreary. I don't know my way around and haven't quite worked out how to find my way about."

"Why don't we meet up again tomorrow, could show you around a bit, go to an art exhibit that's on in the city centre?" suggested Bruce. Alison wanted to say no, for fear he'd get the wrong end of the stick. But he flashed her a charming smile over his dish and his eyes sparkled with it.

"Sounds nice," she nodded, smiling wryly, half at herself for agreeing but more so at the offer.

"What brought you here, of all places?" asked Bruce.

"The difference in mental health issues. Sure, there were common disorders, most of them obsessive-compulsive, in Britain but peoples biggest worry was money and I had to listen to so many people moaning on about it, sat there pretty dry myself, and tolerate these people moaning. Half of them had more in their pockets than I did! And in Scotland... well, there isn't much to say about Scotland. One half is spiffing rich and the other dog-rough poor. I was where the sun disne shine!" she said, imitating from her roots. It made Bruce chuckle.

"I thought that was just pathetic fallacy in literature," he said.

"No, it's true," grinned Alison, "I need to ask you something."

"Me too. You go first. I mean... I need to ask you, not me. I'm not crazy," he said, holding his hands up, "much."

"Define sanity," she shrugged, "I know I mentioned I was a bit iffy about the context of this."

"Ah, we want to talk about the same thing."

"Oh really? I feel like I'm about to stab the evening in the heart. Well, now I've lost my courage. You say what you were going to."

"Me too," grimaced Bruce, "I'm not sure I really think of this as a date."

"...Or not," said Alison quirkily to herself, "I was thinking the same," she added in order not to confuse him. Bruce looked pleasantly surprised. "Not that I don't like you," she mentioned after, "you're a lovely, very funny and very witty guy. It's just... you're not my type... somehow..." she said, unconfidently. God, why didn't she like him? _He's a billionaire, Ally. And he's smarter than you thought! Jesus girl, can't you be happy?_

"Somehow?" he laughed, "I think you're a really nice person too, but I feel if I were to pursuit you romantically I'd repress you."

"Why do I think you make a habit out of testing things out and deciding it'll never work?" she asked, raising a brow. She hit a nerve.

"Because you're right. But we can be friends?" he asked, hope in his eyes. Alison smiled smoothly.

"That sounds very nice and very ideal," she nodded.

* * *

><p><em>So, I know this is quite short in comparison to the first three, but I'm sure you can live. Scream if you want more! No, really... otherwise I won't hear you.<em>


	5. Love Letters

_I'm enjoying writing this, even if no one is enjoying reading it XD_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Following week. Monday. _/-^l^-\

"Stalker," said Alison, pointing over at Jonathan as he stepped into her office. He'd changed tactics. He was being quite kind now, but for the purpose of false security.

"You obviously wish," he scoffed, planting down a letter on the desk, "someone's sent you a love letter. Who'd you bail out on this weekend?"

"How presumptuous!" she remarked, "I went to dinner and to an art exhibit I'll have you know."

"With who?" grunted Jonathan. Secretly, he was very jealous. He wanted to see Alison in something a little less clerical and bit sexier. _Honestly... get a hold of your primitivism. _

"Bruce Wayne."

"Yeah right!" he scoffed, his envy vanishing.

"Does that look like Bruce Wayne?" she asked, turning her phone around. Jonathan clutched it and glanced over.

"W-w-well you ... you... could always Photoshop it in!"

"That's a pretty elaborate Photoshop. Especially for a girl not in possession of a computer," she said. It was true, she didn't have a computer. Jonathan sneered and turned away. "Jonathan," she called in a small voice. He turned on his heel, waiting for a jibe, "who sent this?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Who-the-hell-dropped-this-off?" she demanded, looking suddenly vicious. He quivered and backed away to the door a little. It was a little concerning since she looked ready to kill. She may only have had a letter opener in her hand but with the look that was in her eye he didn't doubt her being capable of some harm with it either.

"I will find out for you, O' freaky one," he said through clenched teeth. He left quickly.

About 10-12 minutes later he returned. Alison looked like a frozen picture. She was still wearing a look of absolute rage.

"Private courier, who couldn't tell me anything more because it wasn't addressed to me," he said. He waited in the doorway, not daring to step in any further.

Alison stood up, causing him to retreat a little onto the corridor. She approached the window and pushed it open, leaning out. _Is she going to kill herself? _wondered Jonathan.

She took a lighter out of her pocket and set the corner of the paper on fire and held it near-by the window until it was practically going to burn her. Then, she waved it once and the flame exhausted with the assistance of the wind. Jonathan slinked back and down the corridor. He should have seen who it was from first. _Idiot_.

Alison turned around and walked to her door, shutting it lightly though she wished to slam it and tore the last bit of paper in her hands to bits and disposed of it.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^l^-\

Alison was often livid following the arrival of that letter. Jonathan had watched her slowly get a little more deranged at simple things. Like yesterday when she had snapped at Dr. Mare because he spoke down at her, mentioning something about her youth.

Jonathan wasn't so sure he wanted to attack someone that capable of malice. She'd rip his head off. He was also unsure whether she was mentally stable. Then again, nor were half of the doctors there, prime example being Dr. Penrose who was nearly delirious.

Alison was a control freak, so presumably that letter had ripped a bit of the high degree control she maintained away from her somehow; or at least that was his conclusion. She didn't care much about other things apart from order. He tried not to think about it but it was a peculiar reaction to have.

She had started to work longer than necessary, apparently as some mechanism of dealing with whatever it was that made her so pissy. She was leaving at 9-10pm, which made his life slightly difficult.

She glared at him coldly, annoyed he, of all people, had seen her breakdown. She wished he had no idea, because she'd rather he'd taunt it than step-back from her and silently analyse her. It annoyed her to no end.

She strode to the steps, turning a blind eye to the lift. Jonathan wandered down after her but not aiming for the stairs. He nodded as one of his in-pocket guards glanced up.

Then there was a tremendous crash. Jonathan shuffled backwards and glanced down to see Alison, weakly pulling herself up. Or trying to. _Did she throw herself down? _

He strode down and gave her a hand. He was actually kind about this; he slipped one hand through the one she was trying to pull herself up with and slipped his other arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. She was shaking. She coldly shrugged him off though, but turned towards him.

"Thank you," she said, bitterly, "that never, for the love of your sanity, occurred."

"Got it," he nodded, smirking. He watched her rubbing her wrist. It was already swollen. "You should get that checked out."

"You sound a little ill yourself there, Jonathan."

"I was genuinely being polite!" he snapped.

"It doesn't suit you," she said wearily, walking away. He chose not to make any remark back.

* * *

><p><em>Poor Johnny. <em>


	6. Vicodin

___Ruthlessly onwards! __ _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Thursday. _/-^1^-\  
>-<p>

When Jonathan saw her that morning she had her arm in a support with an ulnar splint peeping out. He didn't say anything to her though. She wandered by him, giving him the cold shoulder.

This would quickly drop, Jonathan learned. Whilst they were doing the rounds, and she was helping out, she started to resume her normally winding up. They were in maximum security when a psychiatrist named Dr. Horton Moore handed him the medication for Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. He had never had a good encounter with either of them.

"Hey, Jonathan. Try not to get too turned on," she remarked.

"That's revolting."

"I'm sure you think that way sometimes," she chuckled. He rolled his eyes.

"Everything is about _fondling _with you," he muttered.

"I heard that. What kind of a substitute is 'fondling'? And that didn't sound right if you repeat it in your head." _Everything is about fondling with you... Well..._

"An adequate one," he retorted once that disturbing thought had washed over him.

"Unlike yourself!" she teased, snapping her fingers, "Oh yeah."

"_That_ could have been rather hurtful."

"But you just suggested it wasn't. So it's fine."

"Are you saying you wouldn't _hurt _me with your remarks?"

"Oh. Hurt a little. Devastate? Well, I'm not that cruel. Make you laugh? I don't think you know how to laugh."

He raised a brow and turned back on his heel and went to do the dreaded, of trying to give the two hormonal homicidal women their hormonally promoting medication. The side effects were typically crap, especially like people on them. As if they needed more fuel.

As he passed by her she pinched his cheeks and tugged a little.

"Awh, smile little Johnny-Wonny!" she cooed. He sighed and nudged her out of the way gently, dreading what was to come. _It's all her fault! _

/-^1^-\

"I caught her taking the box and slipping it into her pocket. I did spot her going into the cupboard but I suspected nothing of it. When she saw me looking, she quickly moved away from the shelf. I went to inspect her pockets but they were empty and I had no idea what it was she had tried to take but I insist she was stealing," said Dr. Moore, completely enraged.

"Dr. MacLeod?" asked Dr. Penrose, "would you care to explain why you were stealing _medication_ from a cupboard you know has limited access?"

"First and foremost I think that Dr. Moore's presentation of the events is a little biased and centred on the idea of theft but he has yet to hear me out."

Jonathan came running up to the door. When he'd asked Dr. Mare, the unpleasant man had chuckled and briefly commented upon the events. Jonathan had then made his way down two flights and now burst into Dr. Penrose's office. Dumbly enough, Jonathan was so shocked at his break in that he stood, paralysed for a moment, and then knocked on the door as if it made a difference.

"Yes, Dr. Crane?" hissed Penrose.

"She was getting a replacement for something. I thought I had run out but then I realised I'd dropped the box on the bottom shelf of the trolley!" said Jonathan. Alison nearly didn't react, she was that surprised.

"Exactly!" she cried, catching a look in Jonathan's eye. He could turn around and laugh in her face, but if she went with it, she had the opportunity to get out of this. Jonathan certainly looked serious.

"What?" gasped Dr. Moore.

"I dropped it, thinking I hadn't any left I asked her to go get me another box," said Jonathan, holding a box out, "and I think you'll find, if you look under the shelf, I left it there for purpose of proof and Dr. Mare can be witness to that, that it's this box."

"I dropped it and gasped because of Dr. Moore's brash entrance. He just thundered in!" insisted Alison, playing along, "It wasn't _theft!_"

"Then I'm sure it's just a simple misunderstanding," nodded Dr. Penrose, standing, "I'll come check for validation," he explained.

Sure enough, the box of mood stabilising drugs was the box under the shelf. Alison glanced for a moment at Jonathan, who was refusing to look at her. She turned back to Dr. Penrose, smiling sweetly. Jonathan wanted to scoff and roll his eyes. _Butter wouldn't melt, would it Alison?_

"Yes, this really is a misunderstanding Dr. Moore," he said, "I believe them," he nodded, turning to Alison, "no need to freak out next time."

"I haven't had any sleep I am a little on edge," she said, holding her wrist up.

"Oh dear."

"Little fall," smiled Alison before he asked questions, "kept me up longer than I would have liked."

"Do you need to go home?"

"It'll be fine," she said, smiling.

"Okay dear. Just do come inform me if you need to be off. Are we good?" he asked everyone. They all nodded.

"I'll finish up," said Dr. Moore, giving Alison a glare. He didn't trust her. Jonathan and herself nodded and left.

They stepped into the lift, an unexplainable silence falling upon them. As they both stepped out and headed down the corridor to their office's, Alison realised he wasn't going to his. He was following her. She turned around but he pushed her in with some new found annoyance and the will to act.

"Thank you," she said, trying lightly to pry his grip of her good wrist, "there, I said it."

"Oh, That hurts you. Having to thank a man you apparently can't stand."

"It's not that I can't stand you, although I slightly... only just, dislike you. I just like to annoy you too."

"You could always act a little kinder," he said with a cold glare, "let's make a deal, Alison. I won't tell anyone that you were trying to snatch Vicodin because you never actually went to the hospital for that even though it could be broken and in exchange, you tell me what it was that stressed you out so much about your letter?"

"Oh God no," she laughed, "I'd rather risk losing my job than let you get any look into my personal life."

"So it's your personal life? Hm... Sister?"

"No. I'm not telling you."

"Father?"

"No. Shut your mouth.."

"Mother?"

"SHUT UP!" she hissed, practically cracking open and revealing the monster inside of her. He'd just vouched for this woman. It was a real shame about the psychopathy. But he got the right relative. And she knew she had given it away.

"Your personal life just so happens to be disintegrating your job. Really, you'll win by taking my offer."

"My bitch of a mother sent me a letter of congratulations over my job. She knows I don't ever want to speak to her again. There. You heard it. And that is all you will ever get to hear. Keep your mouth shut."

He pulled her elbow up and his long slender fingers pressed something down into her open palm. When he took his hand away, she realised she was holding the Vicodin. She glared at Jonathan uncertainly.

"I know from experience," he shrugged, "no one ever notices one missing bottle in this place."

"I still dislike you, Jonathan," she said with a little wry smile, gazing up at him.

"Please keep it that way, Alison," he requested hauntingly, handing her the glass off her table for her to take the pain relief now. He pressed his finger lightly to her wrist. "And get this checked out," he warned lightly.

* * *

><p><em>Perfectly aware I wrote it but if Scarecrow showed concern to me like that I'd feel pretty warm inside, in a screwed up little way. Hope this has the same effect on one who is reading. I had to choose Vicodin, it is the only moderate-severe strength analgesic I am aware of the brand name for in America, and I don't think readers want the chemical waffle now, do they?<em>


	7. My Friend

_I feel like only now I should point out I haven't stuck so faithfully to the plot in Batman Begins but I find the notion Batman can change things in weeks a little odd. So I guess I tweaked it to suit slightly and some events will be the same, I just extended the duration of Batman's presence before BB and added psychopathy into Gotham before psychopathy really played its part in the films._

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. _/-^l^-\

"Wow, this place is ... well, too hard to describe in one word," she said, glancing around, "and I'd like to spare you a speech you've probably already heard from a few people," she smiled.

Bruce liked Alison. She was quirky without being overboard odd. He could tell she was a little awestruck.

"I feel kinda like a teenager. Weekend meet ups and little outings," she grinned.

"I sort of guess I feel that way too. I certainly feel happy," he smiled.

"All because of me?" she laughed.

"It's fair to say I don't attract many _friends._"

"Awh, poor Bruce," she teased, grinning.

"Would you like a coffee, Dr. MacLeod?" asked the butler, who Bruce referred to as Alfred. "Or perhaps a cup of tea, considering you are British?"

"And so are you..." she said, raising a brow. Alfred nodded with a pleasant smile. "I wouldn't mind. One sugar no milk."

"Right away. Master Bruce?"

"Nothing for me thank you Alfred!"

"Don't trouble yourself for-" began Alison

"It is my job, and life's work, to serve Dr. MacLeod," said Alfred, giving a little bow.

"Thank you. It's Alison," she mumbled. She felt kind of bad.

"Alfred loves his job," winked Bruce, "what did you do to your wrist?"

"I lost my footing on the stairs. It was the shoes I was wearing. Rubbed in all day, so I was walking a little stiff and tripped," she lied, "I've fractured my wrist but they're not putting it in plaster."

"Does it hurt?"

"No," she smiled. _Not when you're on VICODIN! _Well, it wasn't that drastic in effect, but maybe when you exceeded the recommended dose just a little?She was pretty thankful she only had one bottle. The chances of it being in a store cupboard hardly used but still in date were SLIM in England. So slim she'd never actually encountered it.

"Don't do anything to crazy then," smirked Bruce, glancing at the TV.

"Is he real?" asked Alison. She was referring to the Batman. Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his seat but Alison was fixated on the screen.

"I have no idea. I'm a little blissful bubble out here in the manor."

"I'd love to meet him," she whispered, "I'm just curious."

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Next week. Monday. _/-^l^-\

"_Ha-ha-ha! Oh, Brucey_," mocked Jonathan as Alison smiled at the bunch of flowers. It was a small bunch, but it had its meaning. When Alison opened the card, it was only confirmed for her.

"What?" she asked, stepping into her office.

"Well, I assume that's who they're from. And you're smiling pretty psychotically. Therefore, I assume they're from Bruce Wayne and for this, I mock you."

She turned around and pressed one finger to his shoulder, tilting the flowers to him.

"Do you have any idea what the meanings of flowers are?" she asked curiously.

"You're starting to sound like Poison Ivy, get away from me," he said, stepping back. She stepped closer, resuming the position she had before.

"You don't. Tell me, what two colours stand out most to you, Jonathan."

"Err... green and yellow," he said, glancing down at the flowers. He grimaced at the them.

"Yeah. That's saying _be healthy, friend_."

"What?" scoffed Jonathan, "that's ridiculous."

"It is?" she asked, opening the card out. It said 'Get better soon, my friend'. Jonathan raised a brow and pouted with consideration.

"You still sound like Ivy."

"Just like-"

"You act like the Riddler having all those Rubik's cubes. I'm _still_ not sure why you have 8."

"I may have had a lot of time on my hands in college... and university."

"You still giggled when you saw who they were from."

"Jealous?"

"Me? Jealous? Jealous of you playing fairy tales in a mock castle with trim, buff and handsome? The billionaire playboy? Have fun playing games there, you'll get plenty!" _Yes, I'm deliriously jealous, damn it._

"Is that what you think it is? Did I not tell you the implications of the flowers? _My friend_? Not sinking into your skull?"

"Every woman in Gotham fancies him!"

"In or from?"

"Both!" he exclaimed, looking dumbfound, "don't pretend you don't."

"Ah, Jonathan - here is the thing. I went to dinner with the guy, and I told him at the end of the evening that I didn't want it to be considered a _date_. And he told me that he didn't want to pursue me romantically. I could have thrown a party."

He grasped her shoulders and narrowed his eyes, keeping them pinned onto hers for a frighteningly long time. He leaned just a little closer, raising one brow as she looked slightly afraid of his silence and actions.

"Maybe you are insane," Jonathan mused quietly. She stood straight, glowering at him as he almost-silently laughed.

He seemed unable to put the distance he'd wanted to between them. It was fun pestering her though. He just wasn't as successful at winding her up as she was with him.

"Of course I'm insane. That's technically why I had to come here. Just to stand a chance of being professional. By-the-way," she said, prodding him with each pause. He rubbed his shoulder and glared narrowly at her. "I still hate you but the err... favour did wonders. Just so happens it's fractured."

"You don't hate me," pointed out Jonathan, "You said you _disliked _me."

"Why do I have a Freudian couch in here?" she asked distractedly, "I demoted you a little over the weekend. You've all week to pull it up."

"I don't want to. And I don't know, how did you not notice that?" he frowned. The couch was stupidly large.

She laid down on it and glanced up, smirking. Jonathan loitered by the doorway, prepared to run in anticipation of another bout of craziness from her.

"This could not have been relaxing. Especially when you had some weird, bearded Austrian fellow, who has ideas about sexual development beginning from birth and will shape you as an adult, and men sexually loving their mothers, telling you that you weren't getting jiggy enough."

Jonathan choked back a laugh, but Alison figured out what it was. She bolted up and glared over, looking haywire.

"Just coughed," he said, waving his hand and rubbing his throat.

"No, that was a laugh."

"Are you licensed to practice?" he questioned, "legally?"

"Surprisingly, yes. I just did everything as quick as I could so nobody was aware I was mental."

"Stop playing along. What if it's a serious question?"

"I know it's not," she smirked, "oh, lighten up Jonathan. You are allowed to smile. You were given the muscles to do so."

"No, I'm missing the smallest one by freak accident but it really throws a spanner in the works."

The door was pushed open and a very flustered Dr. Penrose flew in, his hair on end as it often was. The door whacked Jonathan and the force of it sent him staggering to the side clumsily. Alison snorted with laughter. Dr. Penrose glanced around curiously, looking for what had the door had hit.

"Oh, Dr. Crane, boy! I've been looking for you. Err... what's going on?"

"Jon is giving me a really bad talk therapy session," sniggered Alison. Jonathan shot her a look from behind the door.

"Ah, hope you're having fun. Dr. Crane, it's your rounds."

"It is? Oh yes!" he gasped, holding his hand up to Alison to excuse himself and following Dr. Penrose out of the room. Alison let out an exasperated sigh and sat back on the couch.

* * *

><p><em>Isn't psychopathy a cool word? :)<br>Joke! Two pieces of grey tarmac are in a pub when a red one walks in. One grey piece says to the other, "don't talk to him, he's a cycle path".  
>Not sure that is a funny joke everywhere in the world, and it is bad but whilst I'm on about psychopaths :')<em>


	8. Clutching Straws

_Have some BATMAN!_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^l^-\

"Dr. Cloudy!" cried the Riddler, referring to Alison. Something of a pet name he'd made for her. She asked to do one for Jonathan, to which the Riddler responded 'Dr. Craney-Boo?' had made her giggle harder than she ever had in her life, and she was now hanging it over Jonathan whenever she felt fit. Alison held out a little plastic cup as he walked along, being escorted back to his cell by two security gaurds.

"Here's your salad," she said dryly. The Riddler chuckled lightly and downed them. She'd convinced him they were going to make him even happier and enhance his riddle making skills whilst taking away violent urges, or something to that effect. Somehow, she got him to take it. She didn't know if it was doing any good.

"Do you not feel that is encouraging?" asked the figure behind her. Alison raised her head, ready to make a snap back but she found herself lost for words.

She was pretty stunned. Batman scowled under his cowl, not that his face wasn't fixed into a scowl permanently. Hell, he probably had bats ears under that cowl. He'd be an indescribable mutant or something.

"I don't like to pummel my patients to the near-death and spit aggressive vocabulary at them as I do it. I take a much more passive approach," she said when she had collected her thoughts, "not criticising you or anything, but I feel it is beyond you to make a comment upon my presentation of medication - and besides, he is well aware of what it is I'm handing him."

"Happy pills," nodded the Riddler childishly. Batman pressed his hand to the bars to stop him seeing out.

"Exactly," remarked Alison, raising a brow. Batman was shocked.

"I've never met you before. Dr..."

"Dr. Alison MacLeod."

"Dr. MacLeod," he nodded, turning around and walking off.

"Whoa, you wanted to say something then!" said Alison, chasing after him.

"I just find your approach a little peculiar," grunted Batman.

"Can I see the Bat-mobile?" she questioned childishly. She'd gone to a library after the news report that he had done something spectacular like save a life and researched him.

"From your window."

"Oh, that's oh so cold," she said, pretending to shiver, "What's the matter, Bats? Don't want to let anyone in? Afraid they'll take of your mask. Frankly, I believe the moment you do you aren't the same. I have no interest in undressing you."

"Fine, you can see the car."

Alison ran her fingers over the exterior frame of the car and glanced at Batman, pouting her bottom lip as she considered him.

"A defence," she said, "well armoured, well protective. Probably very suitable to your entire person. Hiding from the world but yet making a big ... bold... face..."

"Dr. MacLeod?" he asked, seeing a look of cognition on her face.

"Thank you, Batman. It was an honour."

She turned away and ran back up and sprinted for her office. She was about to reach for the phone when she glanced up to see Jonathan loitering in the door way.

"So, now you're after the Batman. You're putting yourself RIGHT up there, aren't you?"

"I told him I_ didn't _want to undress him."

"I heard that," said Jonathan, "not many people have ever had the guts to waltz up to the Bat like that and ask to see his car... or tell him they don't want to undress him. Are you sure you don't need therapy?"

"Want to play doctor?" she remarked, "just excuse me for one moment?" she requested. Jonathan raised a brow and left. She picked up her mobile.

"Hello?" came Bruce's voice. _Of course. That's too obvious._

"Hey. I just remembered I didn't say thanks for the flowers and felt it poor to simply text. So thank you."

"Oh, that's okay. How are you?"

"I'm good thanks. Just at work so I don't have long. How are you?"

"Splendid. Just relaxing. I'll let you get off."

"Alright. Thank you. Talk to you later."

"Bye Alison!"

"Bye Bruce."

Alison dropped her phone back into her draw and stood up and pulled the door back, glancing either side. Jonathan wasn't there. She wandered down to the next door and pushed it back.

"I thought you'd be trying to... Oh, you are trying to listen in. I only meant stand in the corridor."

"I look like I'm getting reprimanded like that," he scowled, "I didn't hear anything by the way."

"Good, Craney-Boo."

Jonathan lobbed a soft back book at her. It landed in her face. She hissed loudly and pressed her hand down on her cheek. Jonathan gaped and stood up.

"Oh no. Alison, I didn't mean to..."

She couldn't help but laugh. When she stood up properly she glared at Jonathan. His face instantly hardened. Half with un-amusement, and a little bit of anger but half with not wanting her to know he had genuinely felt bad.

"I didn't mean to amuse you so much!" he hissed.

"Hey," she said lowly, "do you still honestly feel contemptous towards me?"

"A little. You wind me up..." he said honestly. He disliked her game playing, whilst acknowledging some part of him thought she was exceptionally hot.

"For fun. I'm the only one I see who speaks to me properly"

"By properly I hope you mean civilly. I couldn't really see myself being your chum."

"Yeah right!"

"You bet?"

"I bet my thumbs you do."

"Your thumbs?"

"They're opposable?" she offered, shrugging. The corner of Jonathan's mouth twinged. _Don't smile, you ass_. She was fantastically odd though. She pointed at him and smirked.

"I'm not laughing," he stated, tightening his lips.

"You are smiling though."

"No," he said, turning around and letting a grin slip from him before taking his seat. She gave him a very suspicious look that made him laugh awkwardly. It was actually a little bit of an unsettling glare.

/-^l^-\

Bruce sat back in the chair and played around with his mobile in his hands for a few minutes, letting go of his thoughts a while. One would not leave him.

Why had Alison phoned him like that? He'd watched her speaking. What she had said had stirred her own thoughts, and provoked an odd exit from her. She had guts though. Most people were terrified to approach the Batman. She was apparently indifferent.

It terrified him to consider. Had she honestly worked it out? And if so, how had she done it that fast? He didn't want to put a distance between them; she was a psychologist - she'd pick up on that. But at the same time, trying to act normal would be a whole lot harder. But at least he had the dinner they had to pass that off.

Incidentally enough, Alison was considering the same thing later that evening. When She and Bruce went out for dinner they were out until 11pm. And Batman lurked in the dark.

But at the same time, how come they shared so many similarities. Both pushed out but in different ways. Both defended well and hiding some place where no one could easily get in. She knew that Bruce wasn't who he appeared to be. They were both givers and expected little in return but liked a thank you when they got it.

Being that he was organised, he would be keeping a careful eye on her. Either way she'd find out. If he suddenly paid drastic attention, then she could be 95% confident she wasn't clutching at straws.

* * *

><p><em>Because I'm so eager and things, I'll post another chapter. Plus, if I keep going on one a day then we'll be here for 2 months or something crazy.<em>


	9. I Asked You

_I'm beginning to look at this and think 'Seriously, I don't remember writing ALL of this'. Kinda long. Either floats your boat or it doesn't I guess._

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Next week. Wednesday. _/-^l^-\

Alison wrinkled her nose as something hit her cheek with some considerable level of force. She started to open her eyes when something else hit her cheek. This time it stung. It didn't help that she smacked her palm down on her cheek. She heard a snort of laughter.

She opened her eyes and turned on her side. Jonathan was leaning against the wall of the small office, a bag of rubber bands in his hand. He plucked out another one.

"If you dare hit me with one more of those I will come and wrap the bag around your neck and force feed you the rest of those rubber bands," she warned.

"That is a little bit harsh. I'm just doing you a favour, waking you up and all. Like a good decent person would?"

On Monday she had successfully made Jonathan laugh for longer than the duration he'd scoff for. And it was a genuine laugh. All she did to make him laugh was sneeze. 'Oh My God!' pointing at him, she'd cried in her slightly Scottish accent 'I CANNAE BELIEVE IT!'. It killed him.

The best thing was, he was very concerned she'd go telling everyone he was human after all. She implored the idea of him being Batman, and it was all just cushioning in the suit really since she hadn't seen him but he'd known what she said about undressing Batman. It was as if Jonathan assumed she was popular. Her odd frenemyship with him had pushed her out, but she felt she preferred that.

"There is nothing slightly decent or good about you that I have observed yet."

"You obviously don't have a keen eye then. Why are you so sleepy?"

"Too many late night movies. Maybe my observations of how others behave towards you solidifies my statement?"

"Then, it's your own fault I'm having to wake you. I just want you to wake up, so that I don't have to account your absence to Mare. NIGHT-Mare."

"Ha-ha. Very witty, Johnny."

"It was worth a shot," he shrugged, running his fingers over the bookcase in a little dance.

"You're fingers are freakishly long. Is that normal?" she questioning, agape. Jonathan looked insulted for a second and retracted his hand, glaring at her. "Serious question. Did they get stretched or something?"

"No!"

"It's a new and fascinating encounter for me. You ought to feel honoured I am so surprised, not wounded that I lack tact with communication. Let me feel injured by that."

"You received another love letter this morning," he said, digging into his back pocket and handing it to her. She opened it up. Jonathan wondered if she'd act crazy again. Depending. "Mother?" he inquired. Alison nodded, pursing her lips.

Jonathan observed her. The more worked up she was, the more his plans for her would bite her on the ass. And he had major plans for her. If it was her mother and she reacted as she had the last time, then his plans would leave a sore, sore wound. He hadn't forgotten how she treated him at first. He tolerated her now, because it was the best way of access. He also had another ace to play, it just needed a little bit of planning.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\_ Same Week. Thursday. _/-^l^-\

"Do you like parties?" asked Bruce, pouring her a glass of wine.

"I don't mind them," she smiled.

"Want to come with me to this fundraiser I'm holding for a Halloween?"

"I will have to think about it. I don't know if things like that are for me," she smiled.

Bruce had paid massive attention to her suddenly. He was calling her often, making sure she 'was okay' and he was inviting her around a lot. This was the first time she had accepted. She wanted to know how much he wanted her attention. And now she was here, he'd do something to distract her from the idea maybe. Maybe that had just been it.

"I met Batman," she said, "Odd, since the last time I was here I'd expressed the wish to," she grinned, "it was cool. Got to see his car. I felt apprehension from him whilst I did that. And I decided to act really strange just to see what he'd do. I think that _I _perplexed him and I was informed that most people didn't dare approach."

"You are very forward," grinned Bruce, "but it's one of the more admirable things about you."

"I will put it down to my roots," she giggled. _There we go. Make me the focus. _

"Ah, you seem to pass a lot of things off on your roots," smirked Bruce, "Like fair skin and a slight attitude?"

"It's an easy blame," she smiled. _I believe I am right._

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same week. Thursday._ /-^l^-\

Jonathan stayed on the corridor until Alison left her office. She was trying to lock the door and he began walking down, doing his best to make it look like coincidence.

"I thought you lived here," she remarked, glancing out of the corner of her eye at him, trying to lock her door still. He approached behind her, clasping his hand over hers and turning the key the other way to the one she was trying. "Oh," she giggled, pulling the key out and pocketing it, blushing furiously. That still perplexed him. She was _incredibly_ smart, yet somehow very stupid too. A little _eccentric_.

"I have a home who has forgotten who I am. I need to go make amends with it tonight," he said. Alison chuckled lightly, wandering out with him.

They wandered downstairs to the car park. Not that she had a good track record with stairs. She'd fallen down the stairs yesterday as well, which Jonathan saw also.

Jonathan was tickled Alison practically hugged the stair rail all of the way down. She made it down all in one piece.

"I'll see you tomorrow Jonathan," she smiled, heading for a bike. Jonathan gaped. He was well aware she didn't drive home, but he thought she took the bus now! This was a surprise.

"Alison..." he said slowly, "you're riding a bike home?"

"Well, yeah. That's why I'm going for the bike. I didn't just turn into a thief."

"So, you won't brave the stairs but the roads? On a bike?"

"Yeah! Staying fit and all."

"There's a reason you don't have a _car_, isn't there?"

"Err... I may or may not have had my car clamped when I first came here and lost the location of my car, because the slip flew out of my hand. And I got booted out of the police station when I went to ask! I gave up, I don't like cars much, and it was very very cheap."

"Want a lift?"

"Nah, I can't ask that of you!"

"You didn't. I asked you."

Alison tried to point out that wasn't the point but was struck with how smart that reply had been, and it took her a while to process a reply.

"I'm good, but thank you anyway!" she grinned.

"I think you should?"

"It's... honestly fine."

"Are you sure?"

"How many times are you going to ask?"

"Until you get in the car."

"I bite," said Alison, wandering over to him.

"Yeah, you seem to like the idea of biting," he remarked, remembering the way she'd told him he bit. He shivered at the thought. "By the way, I'm _still_ not your friend just because I'm doing this."

She held her hand for a hi-five. He dazedly smacked her hand with his and his 'freaky fingers' and glanced at her questioningly.

"I'm not your friend. I'm still just planning the ultimate wind-up so need to distract you in the mean time by convincing you I'm sweet even though you know I'm not. I'll win though."

_Is that so?  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>They need a score board to measure who is winning, don't they? I think Alison is because she's rattled his cage so much, but he has come up with a way to rattle his cage. I wish I'd have published this when I wrote it. It'd fit in with the time but never mind. I'd post it at the right time, we'd be waiting for months and then the day after posting it would not be in date... lose-lose! <em>


	10. Epinephrine

_Yesterday was a double posting, today is a triple posting. Because I'm so excited and I need to get to the next part ASAP even if no one else is concerned! :P _

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same week. Friday. _/-^l^-\

"Is this water fresh?" asked Alison.

"Yes."

"For anyone to have?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for your warm hospitality and great recommendations Dr. Brigshaw," sniped Alison, pouring herself a glass of the water. Everyone was afraid of the taps since some gunk had flown out on Monday.

She wandered back to her office when she heard footsteps behind her.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked.

"A warm welcome," remarked Jonathan, following her into her office.

"Do you want to set up here? Give yourself a little bit of space to stay here?" she questioned, looking dead serious. Jonathan was dazed. He shrugged and leant back against the side of the desk, frowning.

"Are you mad?" he asked, unsure. Alison laughed and shook her head.

"No, I'm not. It's called sarcasm, Johnny Craney-Boo."

"Piss off!" he cried, planting his palms in his face and sighing deeply. Alison giggled and teasingly patted him on the head. She began routing through one of her draws and pulled out letter.

"Third to arrive here," she pointed out.

"Another?" he asked, surprised. This one hadn't been picked up by him this time. Maybe she didn't want him so involved in her personal life but she'd told him that her and her mother never got on and not much more. She shared things like drunken stories; normally annoying or typical but this was Alison and she was crazy as it were.

"Yeah," she nodded glumly, "same old crap from that bat," she said, leaning back and opening the windows and then striking a match and dropping it into a vase with the letter.

She waited a bit and poured a little bit of water into the vase and tipped it all out into the bin. Another quick swill with water and she poured that into the bin and stuck the flowers, which were in a little sack of water, back into the vase.

"Are you alright?" he asked, frowning. "Tell me."

"I'd just like to see the back of this fuss," she said.

She smiled diffidently at Jonathan who had watched her contently burning the letter. She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. He watched as she seemed to panic a little. She leaned forward and started fumbling around in her desk a little frantically.

"Alison?" asked Jonathan, stepping closer, "what's wrong?"

"That's gin and tonic, I swear!" she gasped, "I'm allergic!" she said. She was speaking so fast and with a Scottish accent he barely understood. Jonathan had to run over. He took her in his arms supportively as she seemed to fall short of breath. _I need you..._

"Alison, calmly repeat."

"No! I'm allergic to either tonic or gin! An-"

"Do you have a pen?" _I really need you._

"I... don't... know!"

"ALISON!" he cried, "where?"

"It ...might be... in my draws, or bag!" she said, pressing her hand to her chest. Jonathan crouched.

"HELP!" he cried out, "SOMEONE HELP!" he called, rummaging through the top draw. No one had come. He hissed and went to the second, then third, and finally the fourth. "HELP!" he boomed, grabbing her bag. Her eye lids flickered; she looked unconscious. _I... need... you..._

He dug into her bag, tipping it out ruthlessly and picked the pen off the floor, removing the safety cap and stabbing it into her thigh. He kept it there for a few seconds and then took it out and wrapped a bit of paper around it on the table.

He burst out of the door and down the corridor, clutching Alison.

"SOMEONE! IT'S DR. MACLEOD! SHE NEEDS HELP!" he yelled. "I really do need you," he called.

/-^1^-\

"Dr. Crane, you're going to have to let go of her," said the paramedic. Jonathan cradled Alison a moment longer. He'd been holding her ever since she'd passed out. She'd had to have a second injection the reaction was so severe. He shot the paramedic a derranged look, as if she were taking away a prized possession. That was because she had initially said that Alison had just fainted and it wasn't an emergency. He didn't trust handing her over to these people to look after her.

"Can I come with her?" he asked, stroking her cold cheek softly. The paramedic nodded and stood up, turning to Dr. Penrose.

"Is he a doctor or a patient?" she asked.

"Doctor, excellent doctor. He and Dr. MacLeod are close. I think he's just upset."

Jonathan stepped into the ambulance, still holding Alison. The more understanding paramedic there checked Alison over and gently convinced Jonathan to put her down. He did but was sat right by her side once they were monitoring her heart rate and blood pressure. He clutched Alison's weak little hands in his own.

"You scared me," he whispered, laying his head beside her.

* * *

><p><em>And forwards...<em>


	11. Superficial

_... to this rather sweet chapter._

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Same Day. Friday Evening. _/-^1^-\

Alison wandered to the door and pulled it back. Unusual time for a knock. Especially on her door. _9pm_.

"Jonathan!" she exclaimed.

"No. _I'm_ not Jonathan," he scoffed. He stood and scuffed the sole of his shoe on the porch, slightly timid. "Well... I just came to see if you were ... err... you know? Okay? Because you weren't at work and I figured... the worst. Which is stupid! Because I went hospital with you and the doctors said you were okay so I left before you woke to leave you be. But... yeah... Are you?"

"I think you saved my life, Jonathan," she said awkwardly, "do you want to come in?"

"Err..." He was going to say no, but then he realised that was one very big window of opportunity, and missing it would be plain stupid. "If you're okay with me coming in for a minute? Sure."

Alison stood back and opened the door, letting him in. _Easy... too easy. _She timidly shut it after him and held her hand to the living room. He stepped in. Neither of them sat. Alison perched awkwardly against the arm of the settee.

"What are you actually allergic too?" he asked, trying to start a conversation of some kind instead of them just shrugging a lot and rubbing their arms timidly avoiding eye contact with each other.

"Ginger."

He nodded, watching her struggle with something. She took a deep breath in and then sighed, giving up on trying to speak for a second and then took another deep breath in, nodding her head with some self reassurance.

"Thank you," she finally uttered, pursing her lips after she spoke. Jonathan swept his eyes over her and proceeded to smirk. It hurt her to have to say that. Her posture was tense, she was fiddling about with her hands and she hadn't even looked at him.

"Oh, that wasn't easy, was it?" he asked, trying not to grin, "still dislike me even though I _did _save your life."

"You're at the top. You're my favourite disliked person."

"Don't let it go any further than that."

"Funny. You're still insisting that but you know I'm kinda your only friend or thereabouts," she pointed out. She then cast her eyes glumly down which utterly confused him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She stood and embraced him tightly. "Thank you. I was so fortunate you were there."

He found himself holding her in his arms as she gratuitously clutched to him.

She'd brought his lonliness up a few times. He wished she wouldn't. It was like she knew and she was guilt tripping him. Thus far, it hadn't been very effective at all, and any thoughts he'd had were quickly washed away.

But that said, he had indeed saved her life yesterday and in that moment had realised he was concerned for her. Hell, even he'd panicked a little bit and he didn't know he could! His nights stalking Gotham as a face of sheer terror had turned him off and brought him some vague immunity to panic.

Did he have to go through with his plans? _**Yes, you do. Remember, she taunted you straight away and picked on you first.**__ Not good enough. Why? __**Because she knew how far out you were and you know what? She's going to get glory when she tears you down first if you don't do something to put her in her place. **_

His eye twitched with his thoughts. He was glad Alison hadn't seen that, it would have come across wrong. They separated, the awkwardness blooming back between them as the serenity died.

"Do you want tea or coffee or something?" she asked curiously, shattering silence.

"No, I'm fine thanks," said Jonathan, "I just wanted to come by..."

"Sure?" she asked.

"I am sure. What are all those letters?" he asked, glancing onto the coffee table.

"Keep your nose out or I will shave it off in the most painful manner imaginable and you know not assume I'm kidding."

"No, I know. Are they all from your mother though?"

"Pretty much," nodded Alison. She somehow struck the conversation off there and he didn't feel like he wanted to ask anymore. The more he thought about, he was genuinely afraid to ask anymore.

Alison jumped as her hand hovered over the phone at the exact same time as it went off. She held one finger up to Jonathan's lips, surprising him. He cupped his hand over hers and pulled it down a little resting on his chest, listening closely to the phone.

"Hello?"

"_Hi, it's Bruce._"

"No kidding."

"_Listen, I wondered about Sunday?_"

"I'm going to have to let you down, I'm sorry."

"_It's absolutely fine_."

"Yeah. I'm facing a few personal problems currently, which have escalated and are on the verge of exploding."

_"Oh no! Alright then. Sorry to call you so late I was just thinking about it now." _

"I am really sorry. Listen, I have a guest so I'm going to go, okay?"

"_Oh! Sorry_."

"You didn't know."

"_I guess. Bye Alison_!"

"Goodbye Bruce!" she smiled, placing the phone down. Jonathan raised a brow.

"Standing up, again?" he quipped.

"Are you sure you don't want that tea? It's going to give you more time to mock me."

"I don't want to mock you! Much. But err... you genuinely know Bruce Wayne?"

"Did that sound like I was talking to Bruce Wayne?" she asked.

"Well, yes. Do you realise how easy you got in there and how many women have daggers in their eyes every time they'll see you?" He was really testing the waters.

"Well, I really hope my friendships don't produce enemies..." she mused, "I'm not a fan of enemies," she whispered. Jonathan was perplexed. Didn't she consider _him_ to be an enemy? He didn't show this on his face. She snatched her hand back and gave him a narrow glare. "Except you. You're my favourite enemy, as stated earlier." _There we go Alison. _

"Thank you. It's an honour," he remarked coldly. Superficial annoyance. "Alison, could I ... use your bathroom?" he asked shyly. Superficial timidity.

"Sure, it's upstairs, first door. Literally, bang opposite."

"Thanks," he smiled. He crept upstairs. Superficial piss.

Actually, no. He genuinely needed the toilet. Not desperately. He needed to know his way around her house though. He glanced back, making sure that she wasn't glancing up and turned down the landing.

Her room had the door wide open. But when he stepped in he almost seized he was that shocked by it. Hot pink! _Eww! Really, Alison! _He cringed and then shivered a little with horror. It could have been a nice room if it weren't for the colour. He took a quick scan around and stepped back out, tip-toeing into the bathroom.

He did what he could and made a point, more to himself than Alison - since she was clueless about his invasion of privacy - of pulling the chain extra hard as if this made the flush louder for everyone, including the neighbours and a dog ten doors down hear that he had 'been' to the toilet.

He trudged back downstairs. The coffee table was now completely clear, and he couldn't even see any evidence as to where the letters had gone. He glanced gazed at Alison.

"Thank you. Err... I'll be off. I've actually got to be at work tomorrow," he said.

"Alright," she smiled. He pulled back the door and stepped outside. "Goodbye!"

"Bye Jonathan," she said coolly, leaning against the frame. He turned back to her, needing to say one last thing out of impulse more than anything. _**No! **_

"I was scared. I'm glad you're here."

"Why did you tell me you needed me?" she asked curiously. He'd known she heard that. She wasn't unconscious when he had said it. He wanted to lie, his mouth wouldn't let him.

"You're all I have," he shrugged, glancing down shamefully. She tilted her head and smiled.

"Have you heard yourself, Jonathan?"

"Yeah. I don't know who the hell I am anymore," he nodded with a little smile. _Everytime I walk away from you, my magnanimity dies, and I can't handle those two extremes. _

"Jon," she called as he walked away. He turned around and clutched her shoulders.

"Yes, Alison?" he sighed, shaking her lightly. She laughed and grimaced a little, not sure what she had even wanted to say. He tilted her chin up as she glanced down looking sorrowful. He was absolutely taken over by her. "What's up?" he asked softly.

"I don't know. I'm not sure. I just wanted to call you back. Sorry."

"It's okay," he soothed, "smile," he instructed, brushing his thumb over her lips gently, as if this would make her smile. It actually worked; she timidly did so. The benevolence in him tip-toed out further as he warmly took to her. "You are pretty," he mused, running his fingers down her cheek softly. He laughed when she blushed, which made her blush more and him laugh more.

"Stop-it," she mumbled.

"You force me to smile against my will!"

"I'm tetchy about my appearance. I feel like I'm being attacked when people say things like that and I'm only blushing... because..."

"Because?"

"I don't know. Because I want it to be true, I mean... I want to feel that way," she frowned. His heart went out to her; he knew she genuinely felt that way. Did she have no idea? He leant down and this time he kissed her cheek. _Where did that whim come from? _

"I genuinely mean it," he promised, embracing her for a long time until he could force himself away, "get some rest." _**You're going to need it. **_"Goodnight."

"Night," she smiled, losing grip on him.

* * *

><p><em>He DOES have feelings! Who knew? XD<em>


	12. Jonathan Vs Scarecrow

_I know this is short, but at least tomorrow there'll be more :D_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Saturday. _/-^l^-\

Jonathan paced up and down relentlessly, unsure what to do with himself. He should have never gone to check if she was okay yesterday. He looked at it as a perfect excuse to see in her house a little so he wasn't stabbing in the dark but he realised, with the way she had looked so ... _embarrassed _... that maybe he was taking her taunts a little too much to heart.

_**No. You are not. She purposely did it to purposely yield a reaction from you because she knew she could. And if you do not do something about her, and put her in her place then she will walk all over you. This is no time to get smitten with her just because you have a little bit of sympathy.**_

Ah. But it wasn't sympathy. It was honour. Honour she had been so desperate and needy of help and the one man on Earth at that time who could swoop in to save the day was _him_.

_**No, Johnny. You do not feel honour towards her. You must feel anger towards her. Look at the way she teased you; mocked you. The way she sauntered in and the first thing she did was pick on you. Standing you up-**_

Standing him up? She didn't exactly stand him up. It was crazy to regard it that way. No... she never stood him up because it wasn't like that.

_**-Made a fool out of you and drove you to have to spend the evening with a group of people who you intensely dislike and didn't even apologise. All that teasing about looking like easy money and wearing a onesie for heaven's sake! **_

But if she pissed him off **so **much, why had he spared her? No, why had he defended her? He didn't have to come and help her out when she was in pain and trying to steal the Vicodin.

Why smile at her bizarre quips? Why be fascinated with the various possessions she bought in large quantities such as Rubik's cubes, or another thing he noted she would collect - _leaves_ (of all things).

And the very first thing that had made him want to pay attention, before her lament on the bay. Her little outburst about eccentricity and societies repression and indoctrination of eccentrics. She herself was pretty eccentric. She had the air of a mad scientist.

_**That doesn't matter. It is miscellaneous for now. She's not exactly the prime example of sane. If it helps, tell yourself you're getting rid of a potential problem and a danger to society. **_

No. Not getting rid. That was pretty harsh. He wasn't.

_**Dealing with and subduing a risk. You know yourself, Jonathan, she has the air of madness which frightens even yourself. Plus, the longer you put off dealing with her the more she'll have a chance to be sweet. And remember what she said about her plans and she was just buttering everything up until she'd come up with it. Don't assume she was kidding, she's made remarks on more than one occasion where she's not been joking - she's really meant what she has said.**_

Where was the big, over the top, grand plan with blimps and banners and balloons and confetti? Where was the massive overkill of theatrics? Where was the plotting of the demise of Batman? Something more histrionic or theatrics!

Gone. He just wanted to get Alison MacLeod.

_I don't know if I can do this. I don't want to. What if-_

**_I'll leave, if you do it. _**

* * *

><p><em>Who can see this being a GOOD thing? Hmm.<em>


	13. Halloween

_Grab and tea/coffee, sit back, relax. This is a fairly long chapter. But actually I think I've done longer. And if you feel intense emotions when reading, then hopeful I've packed the right amount of anguish into this because it is supposed to be. I'm useless at writing out action though... _

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Halloween_ /-^l^-\

Jonathan sighed gently under the mask, perched on the seat and leaned forwards. He could blend in with the shadows from here if she happened to awaken. He did not know how he was going to approach this.

_I don't think I can. But __**if you do this, I go, and you know she'll make friends with you because she trusts you. **__Would you trust someone after what you're about to make do?_

If she had fallen asleep facedown or sideward's then this would have been a little ... a lot easier. But then to instantly see how this would affect her would also be pleasing, it just made it a little more complicated.

Of all the things that he had planned, why did it never occur to him to find out how she slept?

When he had first come up, he'd seen the lamp was on and wondered if she were afraid of the dark. She had one arm out on her bedside table and had a book in her hand. Maybe she'd gone to put it down and had fallen asleep right there and then, without being able to turn the lamp off. She looked troubled as it were as she slept. She was wearing a little frown.

He slipped down and found the switch, flicking it off as quietly as he possibly could. He stood up at full height to take out his best formula from his belt. He slipped the canister out of his belt and turned to her as she laid in unsteady, uncertain sleep.

He approached the bedside, pulling the lid of the canister back with his thumb. He was so close now. He'd been waiting for this. _My God..._ he had been waiting for this moment and now it was here. It didn't seem right, but yet at the same time he felt so achieved. Or was it that he'd broken into her house?

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he whispered, to lowly for even himself to be sure he'd said it.

He got ready to pin her down, pushing his left foot onto his toes and pressing his knee lightly into the mattress. His hands trembled as he held the canister over her unsteadily sleeping figure.

Now was the worst time for it to come to his attention that she looked so graceful. She typically had her hair pinned up, and was always looking pretty stern but when she was laid there, as she was - he saw she actually had a very soft face. He nearly reached out to just tenderly stroke her cheek. _**Just do it, you idiot! You've come **__this far._

He sighed and nodded to himself.

A hand flew up and grabbed his exposed wrist. She latched on for dear life, despite the terror running through her mind at that moment. She couldn't gain any control of the panic surging through her body, but instinct had helped her.

The canister flew out of Scarecrow's hand and dropped onto the floor, rolling aside on the carpet; too far from him to reach. His real struggle laid with Alison. She was a really good fighter.

He pressed his wrist down to her pillow. She tried to slither out of the covers and reach for her phone but she was blocked by him. He'd leapt onto the bed, his knee sunk onto the bed between her legs and trapping her unless she kneed him.

She tried it. It didn't work; he nudged her leg back down and she tipped slightly to the side. Then began the pleading.

"GET OFF!" she snapped.

"Calm down!"

"LET GO!" she screamed. Scarecrow only had the blessing of her living in a detached house. The chances of anyone hearing were slim. Better still, it was Halloween! People might just assume it was a scare. Okay, it literally was a scare but it wasn't playful currently.

Her hand swept up and in one clean stroke she achieved something he could not, with all the planning in the world, have expected. It was cohesive. _She _was cohesive; she wasn't calm because she was pinned her down to her bed, but he hadn't _actually_ got her.

She dropped the mask to the side as the thrashing and writhing came to an abrupt halt in light of the newly presented shock. The room was nearly lightless, but the little light that was gaping through was enough to illuminate them.

"J...Jonathan?" she whispered in interrogation.

He waited cautiously, slipping his hand down to grasp her wrist now that she loosened her grip. This seemed to provoke her. She yelled and hit out, trying to strike him with both hands. He kept the one he had pinned down and caught the other one.

"No-no-no!" she shrieked, kicking her legs wildly. He remained sturdy, the hits not doing anything to budge him.

"Alison, calm down!" he demanded.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU FREAK?"

"I am... not a freak!" he grunted, bringing the other leg up onto the bed. He rested his weight on this and pressed his left knee into her stomach, pushing her wrists down aggressively.

"Let me go!" she pleaded desperately, "don't kill me!" she cried. He was so shocked at that comment.

"... I wouldn't."

"Then let me go!"

"I am waiting for you to calm down, stop being so frantic, stop trying to run or hit me and to listen!"

"I don't think there is much to listen to. You insane demented imbecile!"

"Alison, please."

"Don't plead with me! You're probably trying to conjure up an excuse to justify yourself right as we speak but I don't want to hear it, Jonathan!" she spat venomously.

Jonathan knew this was true. He didn't know what the hell he wasn't going to say though. He'd tried to come up with something, but he couldn't really make up anything that sounded... _valid_.

His grip softened, but he was still exerting enough pressure to keep her down. He had her mercy and he was helpless, at a loss for what to say. He was put out even more when he noticed tears in Alison's eyes. He had scared her. And really upset her in so many ways. He didn't need any formula nor mask to do that. She was terrified of the concept of anyone breaking in and getting to her before she took her last breath.

He should have been satisfied he could achieve that much. But somehow it stunned him to further silence, and touching him enough to convince him to remove the leg he was pressing down into her stomach.

He eased even more on her wrists. He expected her to lash out. She didn't though. She crossed her wrists, and because he was holding on he fell down. She rolled aside as he landed, face down. She tried to slip away but he kept tight hold of her wrists still.

"Alison, I just gave you the freedom to move-"

"I feel like you're holding me hostage in my own home! You weirdo! You lunatic! You have no idea! You're insane! How could you? How could you make all those remarks towards me and then do this! WHERE DID YOU GAIN THE RIGHT FROM! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!"

She screamed and struggled about, trying to throw him off and did for a second. He slipped off the bed and staggered back, she tried to make a break. He pounced onto her, pinning her back on the bed.

"Please don't do this to me. Not that-"

"What?" he asked.

"You knew I hated being trapped. Do not do to this to me," she pleaded.

"Why do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

"Isn't it obvious why I think that?"

"But there is something?" he questioned, tilting her head up further. She winced and began to cry out, her tears spilling this time. He softly wiped them away. This was a bad idea. She thrashed about, throwing him off guard. He quickly stopped her.

"GET OF ME!" she screamed.

"I need your silence."

"You have it if you'll just get off!" she snapped, struggling against him.

"Alison, you cannot tell anyone!"

"I WON'T! GET OFF ME!" she pleaded, dropping her head down. She just wanted to hide right now. Jonathan slipped all restraint from her and stood up, retrieving his canister. _**Get her now! **_But his heart felt more sorry than he'd ever felt before in his life. _No! I feel dreadful. I feel so... guilty. She's everything I'd want and I'm throwing it away, why did I listen! ._

He felt so low. So _cruel._ He placed the canister back into his belt and wandered around to the other side and knelt down before her. Alison struck out her hand and slapped him on the cheek.

"I deserved that," he whispered.

"You think? Get out of my home."

"Alison... Maybe you need to hear me out."

"I will not hear you out, Jonathan! I _want _you out."

"Please?" he pleaded desperately.

"NO!" she screeched, tearing herself up, "what part of get out don't you understand?"

"First hear me out, then I will get out!" he begged, sitting up.

Alison shockingly grabbed his chin and tilted it up, pressing her fingers down hard. She took her index finger up to his eye and pressed her nail in, just below his eye.

He freaked out at first, wanting to explode at her but he quickly calmed himself down and took hold of her finger, flattening it out. Just in case, he shut his eyes. She tauntingly dragged her nail softly down his closed eyelid.

He smiled vaguely but she couldn't see because of the lack of light. He then took his hand and pressed it to the back of hers, as if assuring her it was okay. She drew her face closer, and he opened his eyes, staring directly into hers. He lowered his head onto her lap and laid against her for a while as she teased her nails over his neck. He was terrified she'd harm him though, despite that he had laid himself in the lap of what was now a massive danger.

"Jonathan," she whispered, gazing beyond in a distraught manner. He picked his head up and glanced up at her, brushing his finger tips over her ghostly cheeks.

"What's the matter?" he whispered. She was about to say something and then stopped herself. "Alison," he urged, bowing his head down. Not only was she distraught, he felt it now too for her. His breath was so unsteady it was about to crumble to bits. He really wanted to just yell and keep on pleading but he didn't want to frighten her.

"I wish people would stop hurting me," she whispered, then gasped, her head shooting to the side. It was like an invisible hand came and slapped her on the cheek.

"Alison?" he asked gently.

"Get out of my house," she hissed venomously after a while had passed, "I can't condone... this."

He nodded slowly. He had never, in his whole life, felt so restrained. Alison just made him feel on edge somehow. He pressed his hands down either side of her and stood up, but not without leaning in closer one last time. She turned her head away sharply from him. He knew he was about to take a bit of a risk, but he went for it anyway, gently kissing her head. She clutched his belt.

"Please go," she whispered. Holding on even though she wanted him to leave? He was confused.

"I'll leave the way I came, shall I?" he questioned lowly, glaring at her contemptuously.

He quickly felt fury towards her - all she had to do was listen, it benefited her more than it did him - he _wasn't _going to make any excuses. But, she had it her way for now.

_What have I done?_

* * *

><p><em>Hopefully, that isn't too bad an attempt at some struggle but as I say, I'm not particularly good at writing out action. *le sigh* Thoughts?<em>


	14. Sweet Nightmares

_I might soon reduce my posting antics but for now with all I have written up, I figure I'll be... erm, generous?_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Monday_ /-^l^-\

Alison had hardly any sleep. That was to be expected when you woke up the previous evening with your co-worker and friend in a lonely place over you whilst you slept. The more she replayed it in her head, the worse and worse it sounded.

She still did not care what he had to say. Now that had occurred, she didn't actually feel like she could face him civilly again. But on the other hand it was a very odd and curious experience. She wouldn't let herself down by asking him - she wouldn't even talk to him.

Jonathan suspected she'd keep a fair distance between them awhile. A fair distance had been an understatement. She would not go near him whilst they were doing rounds; would turn and walk the other way when she saw him walking down; and she'd taken to practically sprinting down the stairs when he was on them too. To say the stairs were a risk for her this was pretty impressive.

When a staff meeting was held she went to a seat next to a nurse who had talked to her a few times whereas she'd normally take the seat next to Jonathan which typically remained empty until someone had to sit there by force. Dr. Moore shot Alison an enraged look this week because it was him.

All week, Alison didn't once so much as look in his direction. He felt so void. The many remarks she had made about her being the only person who spoke to him weren't just taunts - they were true. His fractured mind tried to tell him it was her fault but the truth was he'd only forgotten until now. Until he was friendless again.

What on Earth made him want to hurt her in the first place?

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Weekend. Sunday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>"You seem a little distracted," commented Bruce. He was used to her asking intriguing questions and making peculiar remarks.<p>

They were walking around a public garden, full of various interesting features and objects and things that she'd typically think about. She was nearly silent.

"I'm just really tired. Not been sleeping well. Wrist is keeping me away," she said, rubbing it. _Pack of lies, Alison_ she thought to herself. The truth was she didn't dare shut her eyes for fear she'd wake up with Jonathan leaning over her.

"Just promise me you're okay," said Bruce, grasping her shoulders. She stood tall, in the hope he'd let go. She didn't want him touching her.

"I can't promise that, because I'm not. But, I can promise that I will be."

"I'm here if you want to talk about it."

"You'd think a psychologist would be able to tell herself not to get burned out, Hm? Or she'd be able to deal with it when talking to her co-workers?" laughed Alison, "I don't want to think about it too much though. I just want to have fun."

"How about a fast ride in an open top car for some cooling air?"

Alison was surprised, but liked the idea.

/-^l^-\ _Following Week. Tuesday. _/-^l^-\

Jonathan glanced over at Alison during the rounds. She had such dark circles under her eyes, her cheekbones were prominent with lack of nourishment and she was dithering all of the time. She dropped everything.

This resulted in Dr. Mare rolling his eyes with a grunt. Alison reacted very badly to his annoyance.

"Get a life and stop dampening others spirits, you miserable git," she snarled, walking off. Jonathan went to follow. Maybe if he fell to his knees and begged. _Anything!_

"Not you as well!" cried Dr. Mare, "this does need to be done within the hour!"

"...You're right," said Jonathan. Really, he just knew that he was the last person Alison wanted to talk to.

But Jonathan continued with his night-life. In fact, he pursued it with more anger. _**Why did she have to be different from every other?**_He had specific targets who he needed the right dose for. Why Alison had fallen into that, he now didn't know. Surely it wasn't about revenge, because if he really wanted revenge he could have just shunned her. He'd had many chances to do so. Plus, he couldn't stop himself being affectionate in delicate little ways. It should have been a warning.

Jonathan allowed his alter-ego to manifest into an angered, bitter man, sending his obsessive, knowledge-needy side into a frantic mania which only made everything worse. Sometimes he'd be mad at Alison - after all she had him on his knees, he was prepared to stand down to her like that. But other times, he just wished he could go to Alison, receive some slander for a while and still appreciate it all.

One mind told him to tear her down properly, but the side which was homing his rationality told him to re-build her and just help her through her devastation. That devastation he had some responsibility for.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same week. Wednesday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>Alison screamed in rage and flung the envelopes everywhere around the kitchen and sat down in the centre of them, glancing at them all. 99 letters. Her mother had sent her 99 letters. She never, ever wanted to receive 100. But she had an odd feeling that she would.<p>

Her mother was another aspect who was ruining her life. Her mother who had made her angry towards so many things; like being touched. Just in case it was followed with a hit. Sometimes she could manage, but as Bruce had clutched her shoulders the other day, as she had... she let out a cry of despair and laid down on the ground, crying. She refused to think about it until forced.

She cried herself to sleep there and then on her cold kitchen floor, leaving herself exposed to all sorts of bugs and germs. And in the morning, she went overboard to try and solve the problem, pouring bleach into her bathroom sink and diluting it with water a little and washing her hands and lower arms.

She didn't take her nightgown off as she laid in the bath for an hour. Even she didn't know that she could take things that far, but now she had. She was tormented, still, by everything. Everything she was supposed to be able to put over her head.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Thursday evening._/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan jumped as he heard a thud. He frowned and turned behind him. It was late at night. There weren't many people around. Then a sickening thought reached him.<p>

He ran to the stairs to see Alison sprawled out at the bottom of the staircase, but she wasn't moving. He staggered down, nearly falling himself and turning her over. He swept two fingers over her cheek gently and he checked her a pulse.

He knew she'd be mad but he couldn't gaze at her as she laid helpless. He pulled her into his lap and cradled her.

She looked more ill than ever. She obviously wasn't eating, or if she was it wasn't substantial. She was so deprived of sleep that it was catching up to her in horrible ways. Her skin, which was already very fair, now looked pasty and unhealthy.

He knew she was either sleeping or had fainted. He wasn't sure which but she was breathing, she hadn't keeled over and died from hopelessness. He didn't want to think she would, and wouldn't let her either.

"Alison," he whispered softly, tapping her cheek lightly. "Alison."

He sat her up and she suddenly opened her eyes. He slowly laid her back. She blinked a few times and then glanced to the side, aware of something in her peripheral vision. _Oh... Jonathan..._ she said in her head. Then she panicked. She was waking up below him again!

"No!" she cried, struggling. She was way too weak to fight him now. She was completely drained.

Jonathan pressed a finger to her lips and proceeded to softly stroke her cheek. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, nor why he couldn't have just resisted the urge to do that. It looked like it terrified her. Or did it surprise her?

"Alison, I know you hate me. But I'm sorry," he whispered. He genuinely meant it. No other person on this Earth had deserved to hear those words from him more than she did. He just didn't know why. Though he suspected he felt a connection - something that he understood.

He placed her bag with her and slipped his arm under her leg, and his other arm under her shoulders and lifted her up in his arms. Alison was surprised. She'd always taken him for a bit of a weakling.

She gasped for no reason. There was a loud bleeping sound. Alison blinked in a dazed blur. _For heaven's sake... _she sighed and sat up in bed. She'd been dreaming. It was just Friday morning.

She screamed and flung her cushion aside with sheer anger. Why of all people did she have to dream about him? Especially him showing _concern_. It wasn't going to happen any time soon, was it now? Worst of all, there were many accuracies in the dream. One she didn't want to think about.

She strode into the bathroom and glanced in the mirror. She looked so ill. At least that part of her stupid dream was accurate.


	15. Curiosity Killed The Bat

_It's in my nature to write lots. So; I realise that there are lots of words to this. In fact, currently with all I've written, this fic consists of about 70,000 words and I haven't even finished yet. Bear with me :)_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Friday. _/-^l^-\

Jonathan eyed the letter on the counter. He really had chosen a sore time for her. But he'd purposely done that, hadn't he? He still wasn't quite sure why. Sometimes he still looked at her and wanted to drive an ice pick through her but this was the woman who had him tantalised and subdued doing what he loved to do most. More than once!

Why was he not prepared to harm her though? Because it wasn't actually him who scared her? It made him curious as to whether she really would be a good recipient for the toxin, or would she just growl at it and try and fight. He suspected so. To know that he stood the chance of not being able to be one who scared her both pleased and irritated him incredibly.

He was pretty certain she was reacting to something on a completely different level to his break-in. He just had to find out what that was. He danced his fingers over her letter - in what he had come to judge as her mother's writing.

Then a shiver went down his spine. When he'd been on his knees before her two thoughts had sprung to mind. The first was that she was going to hurt him and have fun doing so, but the second was that he watched control liven her up and take over her mind. She didn't want to be controlling, she just couldn't stop her and once she did yield some control she got carried away unless warned.

But he had a feeling if he invaded her personal life, she'd do good on her intent to harm him. _Speak of the devil... _he thought, watching her glide in. He held his hand out with the letter, not looking at her. She took it in her hand without a thank you, not that he anticipated one, and continued.

Jonathan was mulling over her attitude when he had a sudden thought. A rather clever one.

**/-^l^-\**

"Excuse me, Dr. MacLeod," said a voice from the door. It was Batman. Alison raised a brow.

"Hello?" she said.

"I've been inquiring about your progress here. Apparently some of the staff aren't too friendly with you but you've stated you're not there for their benefit. But your progress with the patients has seen two releases back to prison, and major breakthroughs with The Riddler and Poison Ivy. I have an offer for you."

"An offer?"

"Have you ever considered criminal profiling?"

"Do you need a profiler?" smirked Alison, leaning against her desk.

"Sometimes. Maybe to speed things up. I wanted to know if I can recommend you to a friend, Commissioner Gordon. His name is James or Jim Gordon."

"I've seen him occasionally," nodded Alison.

"May I?"

"Can I have a baterang to frame?"

"They're not toys, Doctor."

"But you throw them around like boomerangs. You even incorporated it into the name!"

Batman felt obliged. He reached into his utility belt and handed one over. She grinned fiendishly. Even he had to then wodder, _h_ow did she actually get a job in a psychiatric asylum?

"Are you okay?" he asked, "you're looking a little thin."

"I'm absolutely fine," said Alison, "I wish people would stop asking," she frowned.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Following Weekend. Sunday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Bruce. This was the third time he'd asked. So the first time had been in greeting, it had been courtesy... still...<p>

"Yes, Bruce. I am fine. And if you, in particular, ask me one more time, I think I'm about to flip."

"Me in particular?"

Alison brushed her fingers over the table, glancing over at Alfred. He'd already picked up how she was feeling. She'd called up last night. Instead of directly calling Bruce himself, she phoned the manor. Alfred had picked up. Excused Bruce, said he was out at a meeting. 'Meeting' seemed suitably ambiguous and whilst someone may just put that over their head, she wouldn't.

"I worked it out, Bruce. I worked out the first day I met you."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Stop pretending. I do know that you're Batman. And if you're not, you are most definitely something to do with him. But I did say you were so much different without a mask on. I then started to analyse the behaviour exhibited as Batman. And I made a list of a few things I would _assume_."

She handed him the list. He read the list.

'_Will be courteous and generous. Will avoid long-term relationships. Will not be psychotic or delusional. Will act passive-aggressive in everyday life. Will have a good memory. Will deny straight away or deflect attention away from the idea_.'

"Alison... I ... I don't know what to say," said Bruce.

"Start with 'Yes I am' or 'No I am not'?"

Bruce took a deep breath in and turned to her. She'd put substantial evidence against him and he was also well aware she had figured it out right back when she talked about hiding from the world with a big face.

"Yes. I am the Batman. Alison, you cannot tell a living soul!"

"What about a dead one?"

"This isn't a laughing matter!"

"Bruce, I have collected more secrets than I'd like to have; you just do in my job. Why stop now? You have my vow I won't tell anyone. Do you believe me?"

"Yes. I do..."

"Are you sure that you do?"

"Please," he pleaded, grasping her arms and glaring at her.

"Your secret is safe with me. So you can put the sedatives away," she said, glancing at Alfred.

"Right away," nodded the loyal butler. "I guess it wouldn't work anyway."

"How did you figure it out so fast?" asked Bruce. Truth be told, he knew she clicked instantly.

"I don't know. I guess because I'd met you as Bruce before I met you as Batman. Honestly, I think you are more Batman than Bruce. And your donations. They're to keep you in contact, right?" she smirked. Bruce felt somewhat ashamed, but then he realised it was his way of protecting his city. He nodded slowly. "How many people have figured it out?"

"You and one other person," he shrugged, "the other person works with me, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman."

"Maybe I will," she smiled. _Of course!_ thought Bruce. He'd gone into billionaire playboy mode. _The offer I gave her yesterday. It's okay now. You can let your guard down. She knows. She's right. _

"You're considering it?" he asked, sitting down with her.

"I need something less unsatisfying to occupy my mind. I never knew I would arrive and dislike and be disliked by everyone."

"They're a funny lot at Arkham," said Bruce, shaking his head. _You're telling me..._ thought Alison.

"I expect to see you a lot more. You ought to drop by my office when you're about," she said curtly. Bruce split into a grin.

"Oh, are you really going to frame the baterang?" he quizzed.

"I already have. It's in my office."

"Well, now I have an excuse to come by. You promise me you won't say?"

"Bruce. I don't really have anyone to say to. But even if I did, I wouldn't. I can see that it's important to you; and for that very reason I will, conversely, do my best to make sure no one EVER finds out. Promise," she smiled, surprisingly kissing his cheek.

It meant a lot, because Alison wasn't an ultra affectionate person.


	16. Trust and Calmness

_Have another chapter today :D_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Following week. Monday. _/-^l^-\

Jonathan held his hand out with the letter in his hand as Alison strode down. She took it, seeing that that could become a habit. Some form of communication. This time she took the letter, but next time she would not accept it. Her letter count was at 100 now then.

She wandered into her office and sat down at her desk. She tore open the seal and withdrew the contents.

_Alison, _

_I know that nothing will ever be able to excuse what I did to you. I feel that I haven't had the chance to honestly explain everything to you though. And if you ever decide you want to know, I'll be waiting and I will tell you. You need to physically hear the reason from me, so you know I'm being honest. You're instinct is incredible like that, I know so. _

_I did not expect you to wake the way you did. I understand it must terrifying to wake up to that experience, only to find out its someone that you know as well. _

_This was the only way for me to get your attention and if you're reading this; then thank you for doing so._

_But most importantly, I have given you this letter for one reason alone:_

_ Alison. I know that you hate me, But I am so sorry._

_From Jonathan._

_P.S: I lied. You were my friend. In fact, you were very dear to me. And now I miss you. And I'm terrified for you; you don't look well. Please don't hurt yourself. _

_Clever bastard. _Alison sat back and contemplated the letter. _At least it isn't Agnes. _And next door, Jonathan waited. He didn't expect anything just in case but he never knew.

She never came.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Tuesday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan never got to the opportunity to corner Alison. She was talking to Commissioner Gordon.<p>

"Nice to meet you. I've heard good things," said Jim, shaking Alison's hand. Alison beamed.

"You have? It's nice to know."

"Yeah. It was recommended that for some of the more err.. high profile," he made a flapping signal, which she assumed was supposed to be a bat, "cases, I used assistance, or even for crimes that don't come easy solved. Basically, I talked to Dr. Penrose and he suggested I have a consultant, but someone who I knew could maybe be on hand. When I mentioned you he seemed quite happy."

"So, I'd literally be categorising criminals to make your job a little easier?"

"And I daresay... help the Batman."

"Ah," she smirked, "I collected a souvenir of the dear fellow," she remarked, indicating the framed baterang. Gordon chuckled. It was a quirky touch.

"Very nice," he smiled, "I'm sure he'll err... love it. So, would you like to try it out?"

"Oh certainly," nodded Alison.

"It's been lovely meeting you Dr. MacLeod. I'll be in touch shortly," said Gordon, standing and shaking her hand, "I must be off. Never mind New York never sleeping - we're the homage of that."

"I guessed as much," smiled Alison, "I must be dashing too. Rounds," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Goodbye," nodded Gordon, setting off down the corridor. Jonathan saw shyly peeping from his office. His eyes wandered into Alison's.

She stalked down the corridor.

"Rounds," she called. Jonathan glanced up, working out what she'd said and then emitted a little 'Oh!' and followed her.

"Are we speaking?" he asked, "did you... you know? Read?"

She remained silent. He nodded in acknowledgement of her refusal to communicate. At least she wasn't running at the sight of him.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>"Dr. MacLeod," said Dr. Mare, haunting up. Alison sneered as he approached. "We're conducting sessions where we assess our fellow doctors and I have been given yours."<p>

"Why wasn't I aware?"

"You haven't been here for a year."

"Oh," she said, raising a brow, "whatever. I'm doing The Riddler on Thursdays in room 12 at 10am whenever you come by."

"Smashing," he said in a sickly tone.

He left the room and wandered back into the office he shared with Dr. Brigshaw, who glanced at him expectantly when he came in. She pushed her glasses up her nose, smirking foully.

"She fell for it," he nodded.

"Good. I think we've got her down," she nodded, "nice work."

"Yeah. Maybe she isn't as smart as she looks," smiled Dr. Mare, full of delight at the prospect of getting rid of her.

**/-^l^-\**

Alison too made it a habit to stay late. Jonathan emerged from the basement, watching as she came up the stairs. She wandered down the corridor and slipped into the front office. Jonathan listened out.

"Never came here. Nothing on record. Is assessment required?"

"_I think so. Just to be on the safe side._"

"If you hold one minute," said Alison, leaning out and waving her hand at Jonathan. He wandered eagerly down, like a dog being called to dinner, and came to the doorway. She pressed her hand down the microphone end. "It's the Commissioner. Wants someone to assess someone they've brought in," she said, handing the receiver over. _Damn it... _

She went to step out but Jonathan blocked the way, holding his hand out. He placed the receiver to his ear quickly so she couldn't start a fuss with him.

"Hello?"

"_Dr. Crane. I was wondering you have the time tomorrow to come out tomorrow for an assessment of an prisoner we've just brought in._"

"Certainly, what time?" he asked, reaching around Alison and pulling her hair clip out and getting a slip of paper.

Alison was so confused. _Why did he do that? _Furthermore, she couldn't get out. She was low on energy as it were. She couldn't push him, nor verbally protest. He was insistent on blocking the way out.

He flung the clip onto the floor. She rolled her eyes and went to retrieve it. As she bent down, Jonathan for some reason couldn't help but glance at her backside. _Jonathan, that's just wrong... she's mad with you! _He did what he'd intended to do in the first place and shut the door, leaning back against it. He scribbled down the time.

"Got that," said Jonathan, "bye," he said quickly, hanging the phone up.

"Move aside, Jonathan. I am not in the mood for your stupid games."

"Just tell me if you read it," said Jonathan, grasping her raised wrist.

"Yes, I did. Move!" she hissed, trying to snatch her wrist back into her possession. "Let me go!"

"I'm so sorry, Alison," he sighed, his hand dropping to her waist. She remained there for just a moment, whether it was because she felt she couldn't go or because she didn't want to was unclear. And for a moment, she seemed to get closer.

He smiled diffidently at her, and took his hand from around her waist, leaving her free to leave in case that was the problem. Apparently so, as she pushed him away and left. Alison was, it was fair to say, furious with him right now.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Thursday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>The last time, when she received a letter and had exploded over the matter, she had managed to somehow resolve her annoyance with Jonathan at some point. This time, she wasn't letting up on the matter. She was angrier!<p>

But at the same time she now didn't fly out of the lift or sprint up or down the stairs if he was there too, and she was prepared to stand a little closer to him. Her vehemence came across in the way she glared at him, the way she tutted at everything he did and how much of a cold shoulder she was giving him. Jonathan was terrified.

But actually, she felt maybe she might give him the time to explain himself, and familiarise herself with his presence again. She just never, ever, in her entire life, wanted him to be leering over her the way she woke up to find him that night. She had, honestly, trusted him. She still found many things about him irritating, and she'd always loved winding him up but before he did that she had had full confidence in him.

The morning had kicked off in full action. Poison Ivy, who was the most intent patient of all on getting out at present, was kicking up a fuss and so far all the doctors who had tried received a hit. Alison stepped forward. She approached the double doors and stepped through.

"PAMELA!" she screeched. Poison Ivy shot around, glaring at Alison.

"Darling, I didn't know it was you!" said Ivy, the tendril lowering. She trusted Alison. But she knew Alison was naive for believing she understood. Ivy had been there for about a year, she'd learned _no one _was getting out. Not properly.

"It's Thursday," said Alison, holding her hand out. There was a little blue flower in her hand. "What does it mean, Ivy?"

"Trust... calmness," she whispered, approaching and taking the flower in her hands.

"Do you want to spend some time in the gardens tomorrow?"

"Yes!"

"Then trust me. Calm down, and come back with me to your cell. You can take the flower," said Alison.

"Thank you, darling," said Ivy, wandering after her, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Alison. Ivy mutely followed thereafter and stepped back into her cell. Alison followed in, sitting opposite Ivy on the bed. "Tomorrow, is freedom. You need to apologise to them all if you get the chance, and I will see what I can do. I promise you now, I'm not breaking out trust if I can't do it, I'll come by and explain how things went. If I can't win the situation, I'll try again," nodded Alison, "are you going to stay put?"

"Yes."

"Just remember, every moment you work at getting out and do well, the closer you become to making that a reality for yourself. Otherwise, you're not. You may even have actually spent less time had you not tried so hard to escape."

"Yes, Dr. MacLeod. I guess," she sighed. Yeah, that probably was right.

"Goodbye, Ivy."

"Goodbye, Dr. MacLeod."

Alison stepped out and locked the cell. She felt sorry for them. The accommodation was so poor and lifeless. She knew very few of them ever stood a chance of getting out. In fact, some of them had been released before - but had made it back in. Hell, Arkham himself had been committed here, hence it being run by Dr. Penrose. She'd never seen Dr. Arkham though.

Jonathan leaned against the wall as she came out the holding area. He was playing with a pen in between his fingers. She cast him a narrow, questioning glance as he looked at her. He held his hand out and gave her a letter.

"Is this from you, or from someone else?"

"I think it's your mother. It looks like her handwriting."

"So, you're not just creeping into my bedroom at night, you're now investigating my personal life," she said.

"It's not like that. I've just handed you a few of these and I can remember."

"Viable. So why the other thing?" she asked, glaring at him madly.

"It's not the kind of conversation to have out on the corridor."

"Then we won't have it out on the corridor," shot Alison.

"Will we have it at all?" he asked seriously. She turned to glance at him. "Leave your door open at 6 if you want to talk. If not, just shut it, go home. I'll get the message. But I don't want to give up before I know my chances are out."

"Fair enough," she said, walking away. _So, __**you do have a chance? **__Maybe so._

* * *

><p><em>Stalker style Jonathan is back! Woo-hoo! Like it was <strong>coincidence <strong>he was stood outside when she came out of there! :)  
>(Oh, Agnes is her mums name; she only uses Dad, never mother, mum, ma or anything.) <em>


	17. Missing You

_I'm late putting this up, but ah well. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same day. Thursday. _/-^l^-\

Alison pulled the door open at 6pm. She would give him the opportunity, but only this one. If he blew it; that was it. Jonathan, who's watch was two minutes fast, had crept down the corridor and had got there just she opened the door. She backed away quickly, going to hide behind her desk. Jonathan entered and shut the door.

"You know you've volunteered to listen," he pointed out, "but I expect you to get frantic, and it's okay if you are."

"Why would you do that to me? I know that we had our differences but surely what you did was a little excessive?"

"We didn't have our differences. We had something though."

"Chemistry..."

"Right. By my standards, it wasn't excessive. But to you, yes. Thing was, I was happy with how things were, I was just meanwhile plotting that and then when I got to your house and started to get closer to you, and closer to pulling everything off I just broke down. I couldn't do it Alison.

"It was a childish and petty prank and there was no sense in me doing it. You don't know how much I regret it and if I could take it back... I would. You don't know what I'd change. I'm so mad at myself, for breaking your trust in me."

He stepped over and reached out to her. She didn't really back away she just looked apprehensive. He cupped her cheek and wrapped his arm around her; this she did reject somewhat. She turned away and backed off a little. He wasn't allowing it.

"I've lost this affection being so easy for me to give you. And I'm gutted. I'm also _ashamed_, Alison. Please look at me. I need you to believe that you mean something to me. Please?"

Alison went the other way. She turned her to the side defiantly but she did stop thrashing about. She didn't want to accept what he was saying though. She refused to cry, she refused to appease her curiosity. She refused to believe him even when she knew it was true.

"I know that I am as bad as some of them for what I did. I know it's insane! I had fun thinking about it and that is screwed up. But I never actually, for one moment, wanted to go through with my plans as much as I thought I did. And you know, usually I'd be intent on seeing something through to its end. For God's sake, Alison...

"I lied; damn it. I lied. I don't hate you. I value you more than I've ever valued anyone, even myself! Just because you'd actually look me in my eyes and talk to me like I weren't a piece of dirt! So I am sorry I ever intended to harm you. I promise you I didn't truly want to... not at heart... I never wanted to frighten you, not really."

He was begging to her. He looked desperate, acted it too as he softly brushed his fingers over her smooth fair skin with a sensitive touch, giving her a look that pleaded mercy. They shared silence together, both reflecting on what he had just said.

Alison just completely let up, wholly surprising him. She relaxed without warning. Almost as though she were mechanically operated, her head slowly turned in his direction. He'd been waiting for that moment. She tilted her head.

She bowed her head down suddenly, resting her head against his chest. He slipped his arms around her, stroking the exposed skin on her back with his thumb for a second, not quite sure why she was suddenly so close. Surely the reaction should have been to get either really annoyed or really scared.

"Jonathan," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know.. what I..."

"Shh," he whispered soothingly. He rested his chin on her head and cradled her gently whilst she was glad to. She let frail tears slide. He picked his head up and tilted her chin back up to him, wiping away those tears he'd probably caused. Anything to ease how confused she felt. She placed her hand over his.

"Jon?" she asked in a low tone. They'd been here before. He felt concerned.

"Yes?" he asked gently, nuzzling her neck to give her some tender attention.

"I always wish things would be better," she said dully. Then unexplainably, she pushed him away. He let her go. What choice did he have? But he had one last thing on his mind.

"Alison," he whispered, turning back at the doorway, "when you let me back in, I'll try and make your wish come true. I promise."

Misery hurt him the way he had hurt her entirely. He'd practically slaughtered their relationship. And he might never get that back, but if he did then heaven knew he'd never let go of that chance. This vile feeling hurt more than anything had ever hurt in his life, and shamed him greatly.

**/-^1^-\**

Jonathan sat by the window glumly gazing outside. From his window, he could see the stairs where he'd first spotted Alison. Back then he had no idea how much one lonely distressed woman would mean to him. Now she was nearly everything to him.

Of course, he'd still have his scaremongering antics to be going on with but the thing that upset him most about the chance of never being able to reconcile with Alison was the fact he sometimes just wished for a normal life. Most of the time, no. He was happy to carry on doing what he did; every moment scaring someone eased his constant tension that made him seem so cold to others.

Apparently, Alison could see others misunderstood him. He knew that was really why she'd so persistently teased him and been so fond of him; she could tell he really needed a bit of love. His shattered mind put its own spin on her motives then.

"It's your fault," he said out loud. _**Me! You could have stopped me- **_"I couldn't though, could I? You bullied me into it; you make me feel bad until I have to do something. I hate you... She's the only chance I have to live normally."

* * *

><p><em>Could we see Jonathan living 'normally'? <em>


	18. Screwed Up Love

_I'll put up another today I guess. In a way, I need to get this all, because I'm writing a book and I plan to have that totally done by September, but I have to really refine each one (this one has been totally rewritten today). Then again, to have a break from my book I write and this is what I write. Maybe I should slow down my posting xD_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Next week. Tuesday. _/-^l^-\

Alison didn't really want to wake Jonathan up. She just stayed where she was, silently. It gave her some time to think alone as well. She'd come home with his last night; she'd agreed to that because she agreed they needed to talk.

He'd been surprised. On Friday she'd been quite callous, even lightly insulted him with the intention of being mean. Accepting his offer for her to come round to sit and have it be just them was a sudden change of heart. And one well welcomed. The first hour had been spent arguing. Then Alison crying in his arms for half an hour; then a calm discussion. Then repeat.

Until finally they got one last big tossup out into the air and relaxed, both of them very placid once they'd spoken their mind. Jonathan was annoyed because she didn't listen to things she didn't want to hear and because she refused to accept what he was saying and she was way too mean sometimes. Alison was rattled because he had scared and hurt her and she trusted him and she didn't feel as easy as she did before and he took offence too easily.

After that; things suddenly seemed fine. Now, they were asleep on his sofa having exhaustedly fallen into uneasy sleep; only they didn't fall asleep laid down so they must have moved like that at some point and it must have been Alison because he fell asleep first. Her actions utterly betrayed her words, and it was often said actions speak louder.

_Damn it... _

"Morning," whispered Jonathan. Alison clutched him. He was warm.

"Hi."

"I'll make breakfast. Drive you home, you can get changed or whatever it is you need to do and I'll take us to work."

"Wait," she whispered, holding on. He tilted his head as best he could manage laid down. It was an automatic response to her slight protest of him getting up.

"What?" he asked.

"We're not done. I am probably never going to understand really. I can slightly, I can accept what you're saying but I'm not sure that I can forgive."

"Can we forget everything about it?" he asked, wondering if that was what she wanted.

"Not forget. This doesn't mean I won't put it to one side however. Maybe not forget, but just not dwell. So I guess I'm..."

"Are you saying sorry?" he gaped. She sighed and nodded slowly.

"Yes. I'm saying sorry." She just felt like she needed to trust him and in a scary place like Gotham he was the first person to be there for her. Truth was, there was a bit of dependency on him from her.

"Don't. It's me who should be sorry. I really am sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't ask for what I did to you."

"I'm sorry for not listening to you when you tried to explain. It doesn't make sense, why you would act so involved and sinister in a prank... but it makes me think you're being honest."

"I am," he nodded. "I promise I am." He was. He did it for the sheer amusement he'd get at the expense of her sanity. He had unorthodox means of doing so but he didn't... he never really intended to go through with it. He was certain of that.

"Nice to know," she smiled, blushing a little.

"How do you want things to be better?"

"I don't know."

"Okay," he nodded quickly. He couldn't let her wind herself up about it. "Wow... your eyes are blue," he remarked, unable to help himself. Her eyes _were_ brown the last time he checked.

"I ran out of contact lenses."

"Why do you wear brown contact lenses?"

"I just wanted to try something new out."

"You look even prettier with blue eyes," he complimented, then recoiled. Did he really just say that? _Did I really just say that? Oh no... the way she is looking at me - I did! I just said that! Prick! What a prick! Too soon or what? You're such an ass. _

He wanted to wake up. Maybe he was dreaming again and he'd wake up. But the look on her face was inconceivable, and beyond his subconscious. He wasn't dreaming - he had actually just said that. Not that it was something he was likely to say; it'd just slipped out.

"Even prettier?" she asked, daunted.

"I didn't mean for that to come out," he said sheepishly, sitting up quickly and getting up. She shot up after him and grasped his arm, clinging on.

"Jon," she said. He bit his lower lip. "Oh, don't dare do that! You know what it was like for you trying to get my attention - don't ignore me! Don't blank me!"

"I'm not. I'm simply avoiding you, and your eye contact."

"Awh," she said lowly, not really connecting with it though. Jonathan turned to her and embraced her calmly.

"Sorry; it slipped out, it won't happen again - but it's true," he smiled, "I'll go do breakfast. Go get in the shower if you want, towels are in the cupboard in there."

"Seriously?"

"No; I put the offer there to make you feel stupid," he frowned, "don't be so naive!"

She gave him a hurt look; a genuine one. He felt pitifully guilty and squeezed her hand as some form of apology before going to do as he said. She did get in the shower, eyeing the door in case he wandered in and peeped at her through the opaque shower curtain she was peeping form the edge of. She also knew that he wouldn't do that which made her concerns more irrational.

They ate, he took her home and when she emerged only 15 minutes later she looked like a goddess. He smiled nervously in her presence. Still things weren't okay but they were getting better. He handed her his flask full of tea and she took a long drink appreciatively. He was glancing at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Blue eyes," he smiled. She took out her glasses and popped them on. She looked more like a business woman that way; it sent a shiver down his spine as his association of that was she was stern. She kind of was.

"Thanks," she said, handing him the flask. He took a sip. "Did you make sure it was from where I sipped so you could share spit and claim to people you've kissed me?"

"Hi there Alison, nice to have you back," he sniped, "I've... missed that, so much."

"Are you ill?"

"Exactly. And if I wanted a kiss... I'd just... _ask!_"

"No you wouldn't!"

"No, you're right," he said nervously, "I have kissed you."

"What?"

"I kissed your cheek on your porch, kissed your temple when I left your house. So, that isn't a proper kiss but it's a form of. That's me trying to show that I care; I just haven't ever _cared_ before."

"You'll get there," she frowned, holding her hand out to him. He wearily glanced at her and took it, kissing the back of her hand gently and keeping hold. "I think you're quite good at it when you want to be."

"But you're going to be keeping your distance tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because it's just what you'll do. You'll get shy at the end of the day when you see me again; I want to give you a lift tonight. You'll get out of the car feeling a little uncertain and then tomorrow you'll either head away from me or you'll be angry. Probably both. But I don't mind; I think that's something you need to do; I just wish I knew why."

"You know how you told me you needed me, because I'm all you have?" she asked.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"I need you too."

They both knew that was their screwed up version of saying 'I love you' without them really being in love. Or at least not confirming they were in love. But they both knew they needed each other; sometimes, more than anything.

* * *

><p><em>Screwed up love for screwed up people. Awwh?<em>


	19. Feedback

_I'm glad they're trying to get back to normal. I sometimes think Jonathan just deserves something to make him feel optimistic. Oh, and you should watch out for Dr. Mare (not that he's real or anything) ... such a nasty piece of work... His first name is Norris. I hate that name so much. _

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same week. Thursday. _/-^l^-\

Dr. Mare entered the office.

"Dr. MacLeod. I'm here for that assessment we talked about."

"Oh right. So you're here to see my session with... Edward," she grinned as he was brought in, "Edward. We have an unusual arrangement today. Dr. Mare will be looking in on our session, okay?"

"She's awesome," said Edward, sitting down. Alison smiled and sat back in her chair. Dr. Mare cautiously went over to a seat in the corner and sat back.

"Edward," she said, "how are you today?"

"I'm a little tired. Didn't really sleep last night."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I was writing some puzzles. Do you want to solve them?" he asked, holding the piece of paper up. Alison raised a brow.

"On one condition, Edward."

"Yes?"

"You declare me a victor and don't feel intimidated if I should happen to solve them? Take it as a challenge, for you to write harder puzzles next time the urge comes along," she said, taking the paper.

"Alright."

Alison worked through two mazes which were no doubt challenging, a few very complex riddles and a few logical problems. She could answer all but two out of 14. The Riddler checked them over, and grinned.

"I'm not going to tell you the answer."

"You'll make them even harder for next time?"

"Of course, Doctor."

"I'm proud of you, Edward. I wish you'd have seen that this was your forte in the first place; not theft, not homicide. I need to touch upon an tender topic with you today. We've been resolving some of your aggressive behaviour but as is typical, I'd like to hear an honest account of your childhood."

"Well Doctor, pin your lugholes back."

"I am listening."

"One word; father. Description; brute. He was never pleased with anything. I could have cured cancer and I'd still be doing something wrong in his eyes..."

Alison took notes and listened carefully as Edward Nygma poured out his life before her, some of the woes of stood up dates and failed first dates, his first kiss being a joke amongst other things. And being rejected for dynamic ideas, which pushed him over the edge.

Dr. Mare was paralysed. It was only when he coughed that Edward stopped speaking. He jumped and turned, then seemed to panic.

"Oh no! Dr. MacLeod! Did he hear! Did he hear!" cried Edward, standing up. Alison stood too.

"Calm down. Dr. Mare, perhaps you should leave-"

"You can't tell me what to do, young-"

"Get out or I will get security to manhandle you out!" boomed Alison, pushing Edward away. Edward sat down in awe. Alison demanded control. Dr. Mare looked horrified. He left the room swiftly. He had what he needed.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same week. Friday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>"Alison. I have endlessly good feedback from you as a doctor but towards other staff I cannot have you shouting, cursing and barking orders towards other doctors like they are beneath you. The incident has been described as 'upsetting, frightening and degrading' . This is now the fifth run in that you have had."<p>

"I would like to point out an apparent vendetta," said Jonathan quickly, "see, I came into my office last night to find Dr. Brigshaw messing around my desk. I told her to get away and get out and that I wouldn't say if she just left. But I feel now I am forced to say as I have heard on several occasions, Dr. Brigshaw and Dr. Mare talking about Alison in a negative and ... degrading manner."

"Yes. Dr. Brigshaw came to me with a complaint about you regarding your extended hours."

"For paperwork."

"Is that so? Can you produce any evidence."

"All the evidence you need is on my computer. Did you listen to what I just said?"

"Vendetta?"

"About the break-in to my office."

"I don't think you understand. They are trying to make fools out of us, Dr. Penrose," said Alison, glancing at Jonathan. He glanced back at her and nodded. "Look, I appreciate Dr. Mare was required to assess me but the simple fact is-"

"Assessing?" questioned Dr. Penrose.

"Yes. He showed me a letter. Something about me needing to be assessed by an older member of staff."

"No, no. I have to do that, not them. I never issued a letter. Assessments occur in the first three weeks. Dr. Crane observed you," he pointed out. Alison glanced at Jonathan and raised a brow.

"What? It's part of my job."

"No. Why did he show me a letter saying I needed assessing?" asked Alison lowly.

"Because he was trying to set you up!" said Jonathan, "Listen, you can't investigate us when they clearly manipulated this! At least look at all sides of this!"

"And you say Mary was rummaging through your desk?" asked Dr. Penrose, pulling out a folder from behind him.

"Yes. Last night, at about 6pm as I came up from my last session."

"Alright," nodded Dr. Penrose, "you may leave. I'll call you back if needed. I need to get this sorted."

"Thank you," said Alison. Jonathan nodded and left with her. Alison was storming off. He followed swiftly after her. When she got into her office she kicked the waste bin over with some violence.

"Hey," he said, "it's okay. Calm down-"

"Don't... don't tell me to do that," she warned, holding a finger out.

"I'm here for you, Alison," he said, lowering her hand, "Stop avoiding me now. And don't take this the wrong way, I mean it in a good way. You're one very good manipulator. Why not get them before they get you? Make sure that no matter what they look terrible?"

"What about you?"

"I'm pretty sure I have nothing to worry about. They're going to try pit your age, your 'inexperience' and your mood swings against you. Make sure you have more ammunition!"

"You're telling me to use my contacts," she nodded.

"Exactly!"

"I'm still pissed," she whispered.

"I know," he stated simply, squeezing her shoulder. She tensed at first but then calmed down instantly after and pressed her hand down on his.

"Thanks, Jonathan."

**/-^1^-\**

Jonathan tip-toed in, surprisingly quite for a man of his size. Then again, he didn't carry much weight. He approached the desk and stood in a clear gap next to Alison, and pressed his hands to either side of her, leaning over her sleeping figure.

"Alison," he whispered into her ear, softly.

"Hmm..."

"Alison, wake up," he said, keeping close. She opened her eyes, aware of how close he was to her so didn't sit up straight away. He stood up following this, unaware as he smoothly ran his hand over her arm in a comforting manner; just to touch her. "It's 7pm."

"Why are you still here?"

"Well, I lost track of time myself. I'm going now though."

"Okay," she nodded, standing up and trying to slip into her shoes. Jonathan held her hands when she got the first one on, giving her a little bit of support. _At least I know I do actually have it in me to be a gentleman. _"Thank you," she smiled, grabbing her coat. "Goodnight, Jonathan," she smiled, hugging him quickly and leaving. He grinned foolishly.

He watched her out of the door. There were so many more things he could have just done and said and he didn't. He was such a loser sometimes. He had Alison, and only Alison on his side in this world right now. He was genuinely thankful for the second chance.

Alison hoped onto the bus now she knew which one to get. At first she had been a little psyched out by Jonathan's habit of dropping by her office... all the time. Or his way of creeping after her during the medication round. But she figured after a while that Jonathan hardly communicated with any of the other staff members and she did. He was probably just a little clingy to that.

Then after that incident she'd been absolutely frustrated and terrified by the way he'd follow her about. And by now, it was getting to the point of adorable because it was clearly also a conflict for him to want to be that way.

She could just see it in his eyes; reluctance every time he realised he was getting a little curious and felt he shouldn't have been... or times like that, where he'd purposely put himself close and wouldn't be able to do much more than that because rationality failed him. Him chasing her like a puppy was pretty ... cute. Though that wasn't at all the word to describe him really.

* * *

><p><em>I lie. I think he is cute. <em>


	20. Crazy

_It's a little bit slow now, but this is a long fic so just grant me the moments that drag :)_

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Following week. Monday._ /-^l^-\

Alison was late in because of her bike again. Tyre. Again. She went straight to the main office and purposely placed her bike in there, writing her name on a sheet of paper and scrunching it up around one of the handles.

Dr. Penrose was stood outside when she came out.

"Dr. Penrose! I can fully account for why I am late. My bike is in there. Look at the back wheel."

He glanced in and nodded.

"I've just come to say that I will have to conduct more investigating on this issue between you, Dr. Crane and Dr. Mare, however there is no evidence of Elsie's involvement. So you'll be in a meeting tomorrow at 2pm, all three of you. For practical reasons as well as professional ones. I cannot have this in my institution." _Whoa, power is getting to your head there! _

"I understand, Dr. Penrose."

"Could you inform Dr. Crane when he arrives?"

"He isn't here yet?"

"Maybe his tire blew as well," shrugged Dr. Penrose, "first time he's ever been late though."

**/-^l^-\ **

Alison turned around in the chair when the door went. Jonathan dropped his briefcase and sighed with relief, approaching his desk.

"I am so late."

"Long night?"

"Late... late night," he said, raising a brow, "are you going to ask questions?"

"No. You don't want me to," she nodded, "a meeting is being help tomorrow at 2pm between us four to try resolve the issue."

"You're kidding?"

"I wish I were."

"Oh... well... we'll have to organise ourselves to look absolutely wonderful then," sighed Jonathan, "I'll be right back."

"I have things to do, I'll find you later, Craney-boo."

Jonathan stuck twos up at her as he left his office in a flurry. Alison chuckled and wrote a note to him and left it on his desk. '_Did that upset little Craney-boo? x' _

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same Week. Tuesday._ /-^l^-\

* * *

><p>"Alison!" called Jonathan. She stepped backwards and wandered into his office. He was stood in the middle of the room. She shut the door and approached. He pointed at his cheek. It was red with a slightly blunt outline.<p>

"What happened?"

"Poison Ivy! Please stop! I do not want that one more time. This time she smacked me! And it burns." Alison snickered lightly.

"Well, you win your way," she said, "poor Johnny."

"Whatever," he grumbled, "I wanted a little bit of sympathy! But you don't care!"

"I do," she smiled, cupping his cheek. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him softly on the cheek. Jonathan was too stunned to speak for a moment.

"Wow..." he laughed. Alison was not in any way outwardly loving. And in a way, it was scary she wasn't afraid to get close to him anymore. He'd solidified his honesty somehow but she was very confused though and Jonathan knew it. She was even just a little bit unstable. He had to be so careful. "Why?" he questioned.

"To make you feel better. Now you're flustered and your whole face is red and you can't even tell that you've been struck!" she grinned, "that's as nice as I'm going to get towards you."

"I'm counting on it..." he mumbled, trying to stop himself from being so flushed. He wished these things would stop happening. He looked like a love struck little boy the way he was going.

* * *

><p>-^l^-\ _Same week. Thursday. _/-^l^-\

* * *

><p>"I'm still all for having you work for the police" said Gordon, when news of the escalation in situation between the four doctors was presented to him by Alison, "I just thought you ought to know."<p>

"That means a lot to me. It was completely unexpected. I had to take control of the situation. I'm surprised it bothers people so much. I'd have thought it was more about the work."

"We all know half of them are up their own backsides," said Jim, "well, I have been considering where to give you a role or what to have it down as. I don't know if you know Dr. Crane."

"We're... _friends_," nodded Alison.

"Really?"

"Yeah. That seems to surprise you?"

"No. It's just convenient. I think you might find yourself working with him. Or doing something similar."

"Will I be doing evaluations?"

"Yes, yes," confirmed Gordon, "and interviews, I suspect. Profiling perhaps?"

"Jonathan isn't standing down or anything is he?" she asked. She'd be so upset if he hadn't told her something like that when they were now back at a stage of sharing even some of the more private things about themselves with each other. She'd even let him take a look at the most recent letter from her mum.

"No! He's not, he's just sometimes not available and he purely does evaluations. I think, to be honest, Batman just wants to work with you. I just be clever about the title I give to your occupation in order to have you come work here."

"Oh, what a pleasure," she grinned. "What would I be doing with the Batman?"

"He won't say. He just wants me to be the middle man, which I'm happy to do. I guess he wants your help in these things, even though he's good at it anyway. Guess someone needs to fill his shoes in the day?"

Jonathan entered in quietly and cast her a questioning look, whilst pointing at the door. She waved her hand in and he shut the door behind him lightly, approaching her and pulled her hairclip out. She smirked, trying to grasp it back as her hair spilled over her shoulders.

"Well, I think that's quite noble of you," she said, glaring at Jonathan and tugging on the clip. "I couldn't be a medium for someone else. I hate playing piggy in the middle."

"I guess he helps. He guards and protects, so whilst he's doing the right thing for us, I'm not concerned. I guess I'll tell him I've sorted things out pretty much when I see him next and he'll either put me in touch with you or do it himself. Probably me," Gordon laughed.

"Sounds fantastic."

"I'll speak to you soon, Dr. MacLeod!"

"You too! Bye!"

"Goodbye," said Gordon, putting the phone down.

"You'll take her?" asked Batman.

"She's pretty much perfect, right? She'll help us, she has those savvy sparks which make her fit for the job. Boy, I never thought we'd have a criminal profiler of our own aside from yourself but you're bit of an all-in-one."

"Have you suggested she may need to come out sometimes in order to try help take control of a situation, or that she'll have to analyse crimes?"

"No. I reserved those kind of details until I knew I could definitely take her on. Neat you pulled on those strings."

"It's what I do."

"You're telling me?" laughed Gordon, turning around. He rolled his eyes. _Typical..._ Gone.

"What's with you and this clip?" she asked.

"I think you need to let your hair down?" suggested Jonathan wisely. She giggled a little, "why do you dress older than you are?" he asked thoughtfully.

"To give off the illusion I am. If they see a 23 year old-"

"23? You were 22 when I met you."

"I have this wonderful little thing called a birthday, that arrives annually and makes the total number of years I have lived higher by 1 each year it comes round. It's a bit like a century but 100 times smaller."

"I mean... when was your birthday?" he questioned, biting his tongue.

"Monday."

"And you didn't say a word?" he gaped.

"I don't care," shrugged Alison, trying to pry his hand off the clip.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he asked.

"I don't know. What does 'I don't care' mean?"

"No. But you did ... nothing. You stayed here late!"

"It's not a big deal."

"It is to..."

"To you? Why Jonathan?" she laughed, biting her lip, "because you care? Because you care and you don't want to which it why you stopped yourself from saying it but you know that you did in your head!" she remarked, winding him up but lightly so. It didn't anger him. _Crap! She knows what I'm thinking._ "Tell me, Johnny... why'd you steal my clip?"

"I... wanted to... I was trying..."

"You wanted to flirt? You were trying to get my attention?"

"No!" he gasped, flustered. He blushed again. Alison flipped her hair back and he tried not to look but she'd done it on purpose.

"I think you're lying," she smiled.

"...Screw you!" he barked, looking sheepish afterwards. Alison wickedly grinned at him, which was - to say the least - a bit unnerving.

"You wish you COULD," she scoffed, "I'm going home, I have some work to do."

"... You're at work?"

"Private," she said sternly, a sudden hard and cold transition coming over her face. He nodded and smiled.

"Have fun," he shrugged.

"Oh I will," hissed Alison lowly. _Gosh, __**Jonathan... it's just not wise to go after her... she's crazy.**_

* * *

><p><em>Crazy is accurate. If it isn't obvious Alison does have a problem, a mental disorder. Anyone want to diagnose? It might not be obvious yet though, not as obvious as it is to Jonathan who has had more opportunity to observe. <em>


	21. Refresh

_Because I have absolutely no idea how a court hearing might go, I missed it out. Sorry about that._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following week. Monday. _/-^1^-\

_"I feel I should take this opportunity to inform you of some minor investigations I've been conducting," he said, "when Alison collapsed, it had been Dr. Brigshaw who simply said a very dismissive 'yes' when Alison asked if the contents of the bottle was just water._

_"A more interesting point is why Dr. Mare would go out and buy tonic water and gin that morning, and put it in the fridge unlabelled - having looked at Dr. MacLeod's personal details and medical record the night before?"_

_"What are you suggesting?"_

_"Isn't that very convenient? I mean... my interpretation of that would be... attempting to harm her, maybe worse."_

_"That's awfully elaborate, Dr. Crane. I hope you realise the accusation you're making." _

_"I do. I had to check very carefully. I have evidence. The name on a search on her profile and a receipt disposed off in his draws. I don't condone my action but I had an awful feeling - it's what the police would have done, by which point he would probably be able to hide it."_

_"I have to take this further. Dr. MacLeod?"_

_"...Okay," she nodded. _

_"You're dismissed," said Dr. Penrose. _

_Alison stood and quickly left. Someone had tried to, like... kill her? Jonathan caught up and grasped her arm, turning her to him. She shook her head and wandered to her office. He followed her in and pushed the door too. _

_"Are you telling the truth?"_

_"You know I wish I wasn't."_

_"Why are you acting guilty?"_

_"I didn't realise it'd distress you this much."_

_"When someone has attempted to hurt you in such a drastic way, a life threatening way, and you find out without foreword, you don't lightly muse over it and let go, Jonathan!" _

_"I'm sorry. I got the log this morning though. I didn't have time to tell you and your shock was more genuine because you didn't know!" _

_"Was that a valid reason not to tell me?"_

_"You don't think rationally when you're mad," he said, sitting beside her in the chair, "I know no one does but I mean it heavily effects you," he said softly. _

_"Don't start caring, it doesn't suit you."_

_"If that is how you're going to be Alison, then I might just do as you ask, until you realise I want to care."_

/-^1^-\ _2 weeks later. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

"Have fun behind those bars you went and put yourself behind, fools," sneered Alison as Brigshaw and Mare were taken off. Sentenced. It was just perfect, Mare for attempted murder and Brigshaw for that and lying about... well, everything. Too see them punished was a whopping revenge.

"Ooh, little miss temper," laughed Jonathan as they left, going to put an umbrella up. Alison closed it quickly with her hands. "Are you superstitious?" he gasped.

"...A little bit," she said quickly. He didn't catch what she'd said but somehow knew she'd confirmed it.

"I hate courtrooms," said Alison plainly.

"Bad memories?" he asked, holding the door open for her.

"Not really. Just hate them. Too daunting," she lied. Jonathan rolled his eyes and put the umbrella up, hooking his arm around her waist. She sighed and didn't respond much to this action, looking out onto the roads.

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I'm stressed," she hissed, "I'm not mad at you."

"Sorry, the whole cold shouldering and everything..." he grunted. And still giving him Poison Ivy's medication to hand to her when the woman clearly wanted him... it was as if she didn't actually care about the fact it was obvious he liked her.

His general relationship with Alison was yo-yoing just like her temperament. But he was not turning back on it now - she'd given him more reason to feel attached! He felt like he couldn't help it no matter how much he wanted to, especially whilst she was in such a state - it was actually painful.

"If it hadn't have been for me you wouldn't even know and probably wouldn't even be here. And if I hadn't been in your office that day; you'd have probably died. Stop treating me like the enemy," he hissed. He just snapped for a moment.

"Stop!" she cried, turning her head from him. He cupped her cheek and turned her head back, softly brushing her skin with his thumb.

"I want you realise that I'm here for you," he whispered lowly, pouting with sorrow, "I'm sorry I got irate about that just then."

"I don't mean to be like this with you."

"I don't blame you one bit."

"Thank you," she whispered, burying her head against his chest as if she were trying to hide. He secretly liked it when she'd do that - it made him feel very powerful, as if there were immediate danger and he was the barrier between her and that risk reaching her. _**Frighten her now! **__Don't... she needs me, just as much as I still need her._

She picked herself up and dug in her bag and pulled out a cigarette box and a lighter. Jonathan snatched the lighter away quickly. It had never occurred to him on the three occasions he watched her burning letters with a lighter she might smoke; it would have been an obscure link to make. He'd never seen her smoking though; and she didn't look like a smoker.

"Instead of doing that how about you look to me and take out whatever anxiety-riddled mind-frying emotion you're feeling right now?" he suggested.

"Awh, are you that willing to soak up my anger?" she sneered. _Yes, I am._

"Yes," he stated, glancing at his shoes. "Or maybe I just care about oral hygiene as much as I do mental health." A fantastic lie but it made Alison laugh.

"I just can't believe it. Why they'd do that. I'm having a hard enough time settling in as it is. I don't feel comfortable, not yet."

He pulled her back before she went to get a taxi and brought her close, glancing at her lips and then into her eyes. Back down to her lips for a split second. He resisted the urge.

"Jon?"

"Let's go do something. Or, if not... let me walk you home? It'll be nice."

"... What do you have in mind?" she smiled.

"Let's go get a coffee, we'll take it from there?" he suggested, taking her hand and putting them both in his coat pocket.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same week. Sunday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"Do you know why I said I'd help you?" asked Jonathan, vigorously pressing the roller over the walls, smiling as pink changed to cream coloured. She'd wanted to go home yesterday to sleep to do her bedroom; so he asked if she needed a hand. She was pint sized, the job would exhaust her. He only wished she'd decided to do it on Saturday instead of a Sunday. Tomorrow at work would be achy.<p>

"No, why?" she asked, doing the adjacent wall.

"Because I really hate your room. I came up when I said I needed the toilet and took a peek inside; I didn't need the toilet to begin with but then I did to go vomit. Does it not give you a headache?" he asked.

"Why do you think I'm changing it?" she laughed. She picked up a brush and dipped it into the paint pot, drawing on the walls with it just because she could. "Ta-Da!" she sang, waving her hands before the wall.

Jonathan turned around and burst out laughing. She'd written 'I love you, Jon' on the wall in paint. He used the edge of the roller and wrote a message back, simply saying 'thanks'. She gave him a hurt look and held her hands up in a heart shape and then split it in an imitation of a broken heart. He pouted and held his hands up, separated and put them back together. She shook her head and turned away.

He picked up the brush and wrote it even bigger on the wall he was doing 'I LOVE YOU TOO ALISON'. She raised a brow but remained slightly turned away.

"I LOVE YOU TOO!" he yelled, planting the brush down and approaching her from behind, grabbing her around the waist and squeezing her tightly in his arms. He shuffled back to the bed and landed back with her. They both had a few moments to laugh before they stopped. She turned to him and nestled a bit closer, so he took the chance to show some affection back and gently swept his fingers through her hair rhythmically.

"You do mean so much to me," she whispered.

"Don't imply you're forgiving me until you know you are. But you mean a lot to me as well. I'm so desperate to prove it to you."

"Well, you're winning," she laughed, "I am forgiving you, Johnny."

He grimaced and kissed her forehead gently, shutting his eyes as he kept his lips pressed there for a long time, feeling how intensely sensual it felt to be able to do that. It was ... amazing. Just one little sign could have such a powerful feel.

"We're not in the clear yet though."

"I agree," she whispered, "I can't be arsed getting back up..."

"Me neither," he laughed, "but we have to," he insisted, whipping up and pulling her with him.

* * *

><p><em>If only she knew that he had problems meaning he can't be this gentle caring man all the time. <em>


	22. Face down

_Another Triple posting :)_

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^1^-\

"Everyone is leaving... She's really cleaning up, isn't she?" smirked Jonathan to one of his in-pocket guards. Two doctors and a couple of nurses were leaving after the court issue and the imprisonment of Mare and Brigshaw. "At this rate, she's going to end up kicking everyone out and those who aren't kicked out will probably leave. Maybe I should encourage her."

"Why?"

"I'll be able to climb to the top that way; become head of Arkham maybe, or take a more executive role at the very least."

"If she is the one making all this change, won't they chose her?"

"She's too young, too inexperienced in the boards eyes. She would do great though otherwise, of course."

"What about if she targets you?"

"Oh.. ha-ha," he laughed, genuinely, "she won't," he promised, "I'm her safety net."

"Think the doc's gotta thing for her," muttered one guard to another in a low whisper, making them both laugh. Luckily, Jonathan couldn't hear. But he couldn't even try and hide that he did. He shifted away as Alison came around the corner, holding a bunch of files in her arms. She glanced over as she heard footsteps behind her and smiled.

"Hi," she said softly, pushing the door open with her hip. She dropped the files onto her desk and sat down. Jonathan peeped in. "Are you alright?"

"Are those patients?" he asked, thinking he could take the work load off. Then again, Alison loved working.

"No, these are some staff files I've been handed by the board."

"Were you the one who called them?" he asked.

"They called me," she grinned, "apparently, they were a little concerned about the performance here anyway and ... I was surprised. They asked me to check over these to give my recommendations."

"You're free from large scale bias," he pointed out.

"Apparently, someone recommended me," she smiled, shrugging. "Whom is not a member of staff at Arkham. I think I know who. But I am aware these will be re-checked anyway, probably by someone who has been here a little longer and then from an investigation."

"Yeah," he nodded, "do you want me to go?"

"Depends. If you're planning to nosy in then leave, by all means. But if not, if you're here to keep meek little me company, you can stay."

"I won't nosy," he promised. He could probably guess anyway. He took his glasses off and sat down on the Freudian couch, talking to her.

Alison made two piles but eventually compiled a third. The one to her right were to be highlighted, the ones on her left to be less noted and the one in the middle was people she hadn't yet decided on. But he frowned when she opened one folder and didn't look any further. He knew it was him.

"Who was that?" he quizzed.

"Yourself," she answered.

"And you just instantly made me safe?" he asked. Sure, he didn't want to be investigated, but he had to inject a little fairness into it. And a reason for Alison to want to keep him around. There would be nothing unusual anyway; he knew what his record said.

"I know you," she shrugged.

"You _think _you know me. I don't dispute you do, but still you should give me the same chance as everyone else has."

"Don't blame me if I find something amiss," she remarked, picking it up and filing through. He watched as her brows raised often and she smiled at parts. "I know your birthday," she teased, eyes flicking over it, "Here is one thing I didn't know. Do you want to know how many hours overtime you have done in your three years here?"

"...Can you tell me that?"

"I'm not sure, but I will anyway because I know you'll keep quiet."

"Go on."

"137," she laughed.

"That's like... an entire week in hours," he commented. That was all? That was it? 5 days! _It's okay. You've done a lot in your leisure time to compensate._

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, Jonathan. It also probably means you've spent more nights than you care to remember cooped up here."

"Aside from laughing at ugly clothing and painting your bedroom with you I don't know what to_ do _for fun," he frowned. _**Don't dig yourself a hole, Johnny. **__Shut up, I want her suggestions. _

"I recommend you go out and get plastered on Christmas day," she grinned.

"I'm not a big fan off all that."

"Loosen up a little," she pushed, "the world isn't a scary place and you don't need to be a recluse all the time."

"What are _you _doing Alison?" he quizzed. She really was a pot calling the kettle black.

"Curling up by the fire with a glass of wine, trying to ward off my _inevitable_ hangover headache. Thank you Bruce," she giggled. She'd sang it in a girly tone. He tried not to look disheartened.

"Do you fancy him?" he questioned, hoping to seem innocent. "You're lying if you say no..."

"No, I just don't," she shrugged, "he's a good friend. I laugh because the opportunity to be allowed to get drunk thrills me."

"How childish," he drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Everybody else will be getting drunk, I should be allowed. It's his Christmas do on the 24th. Big, overdone, expensive. Of course. Free alcohol? Yes please."

"Oh!" he laughed, "I got an invitation to that," he smiled. He'd thought it was the two of them alone, somehow. _**That's called jealousy, Johnny.**_ He sighed at his own subconscious but Alison wasn't paying attention.

"Are you going?" she asked.

"Last time I got an invite to an occasion and you asked me a similar question you showed me up," he said, glaring at her.

"Ah, but you see. Guess who got you that invite? I gave Bruce a list of the 'good' staff at Arkham but he told me he'd just invite everyone."

"Was I on the 'good' list?"

"Yep," she chirped, "1 of 3 people and at the top, of course."

"How sweet."

"I won't bail on you this time. And if you want, you can come pick me up," she laughed.

"...Can I get back to you?"

"Better be before the 23rd so I can book a taxi otherwise. I don't fancy riding a bike in my dress because you tell me last minute." He snickered at the mental image that produced.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Friday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"Alison!" called Jonathan, running after her. "I'll pick you up at 6:30?"<p>

"Oh, you are coming?" she grinned.

"Right. It's your fault."

"Awh, don't be like that," she sulked, writing her sign out time.

Jonathan playfully butted in under her arm to sign out on his name and they waged a little play-war with each other, and did the worst handwriting they may ever have done in their lives. She won, by what he deemed as the unfair use of her 'derriere' to barge him aside.

She manically giggled and ran out of the front entrance, bombing for the stairs. He cringed as she then fell in the ice, with a tremendous 'thud' that didn't match the expectancy given her weight. She gasped with the cold.

He pursed his lips, giving her his hand as he tried not to laugh. She sat on the ground for a moment looking pretty pissed before gathering a hand-full of snow and lobbing it in his face but using his arm to climb up.

He gasped as the cold water from the melted snow travelled under his shirt and decided to reap the same revenge on Alison, taking a large amount of snow off the rails and propelling it at her.

"EEK!" she cried, covering herself once it was too late. Jonathan wickedly laughed but not so much once she dropped a load of ice down his back. He shot off before she had a chance to do it again and landed face down in the thick snow at the bottom of the stairs as he slipped on the ice.

"JON!" she gasped. He held a thumbs up.

Alison had never laughed harder in her life. She clutched her tummy which was aching already as she pointed at a very sorry looking Jonathan. Soon she was in tears, approaching him as he pulled his stiff body up out of the soft matter. It wasn't so soft to land in.

Are you alright?" she laughed, linking arms with him.

"My face," he moaned, "It hurts!"

"Awh," she laughed, "poor Craney-Boo," she teased, pinching his cheek.

"Hey, shut up or I won't give you a lift home-"

"You never offered," she gasped.

"It wasn't an offer," he said, sweeping her in the general direction of his car. She laughed after she'd screamed with the surprise turn and scuttled along the road to his car. He pinned her up to it and fumbled about with the keys in the lock until she barged him out of the way with her rear and unlocked it.

"Well played," she remarked. He sighed and held her in his arms.

"You will let me take you home, won't you?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"If you want to," she said, "I'm just not letting you in."

"I'll just BREAK in," he pointed out, dismissively waving his hand to animate his words; as though that were a casual thing to do.

"I'll take you to court!" she warned. Jonathan found himself genuinely amused and laughed.

"I wouldn't put it past you," he remarked.

"I wouldn't do that to you," she said, "Unless you hurt me."

"I nearly did..." he frowned, sweeping her hair from her face to gaze at her properly. She grimaced and nodded.

"I know," she said, "then you sincerely regretted it," she pointed out. Jonathan blinked, gazing at the floor for a moment as he thought about that phrasing of it.

She was right. In fact, she usually always was. He picked his head up and turned to her, kissing her forehead whilst smiling. "Thank you," he smiled, "for giving me another chance. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you."

"Don't be silly," she whispered, cuddling up to him.

* * *

><p><em>Poor Johnny haha<em>


	23. Christmas Eve

_Two_

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Christmas Eve. 6:30pm. _/-^1^-\

Alison got into the car but he hadn't caught a glimpse of her dress because she was wearing a long black coat, a scarf and some gloves. He turned the heating up a little and grinned at her.

"Hey," he smiled, "well done for not turning down an invite," he remarked. She jabbed his arm and sat pretending to sulk.

When they arrived at Wayne Manor he was surprised to find Alison just simply guiding him in to the main hall. She passed by an elderly fellow and called him 'Alfred' to which the reply was:

"Good Evening Alison! Nice to see you again. Might I take your coat?"

"Okay," she grinned, "thank you very much," she said, unbuttoning it and sliding it off.

Jonathan had been waiting to get an eye full. Nothing could have prepared him; a feeling he often felt around Alison.

She was in a red dress companied with black, neat and very high heels. But the main thing - her dress - was gorgeous. No! She was. He knew she was slim but he hadn't bargained on her being model like slim. Her waist was so small it was nearly not present. And the red dress which tucked in at the waist accentuated this svelte feature. She didn't flatter he figure at work too much for very good reasons.

The dress itself; knee length, lacy sleeves, tight fitting, well made, deep red, an incorporated red belt at the waist, sweetheart neckline, the skirt half flowing out elegantly and wrapping around. She needed no major amount of make-up or hair fixing; she had made herself look very elegant and classy... and sexy.

She approached him, hooking one arm around his neck, and pushed his agape jaw up; he hadn't even realised himself. He frowned and then glanced her in the eyes, smiling weakly.

"Nice dress," he complimented foolishly, "you look gorgeous."

"Thanks. How would you like to help me take it off later?" she asked seductively.

"Pardon, sorry?" he gaped.

"I said how would you like to get drunk with me later?" she laughed. She hadn't invited him to undress her and he knew it. _Ha! Loser. You couldn't get her undressed if you tried._

"Well, we'll see if you can twist my leg," he smiled. _For you. _

His thrill at seeing her in such an amazing dress was then crushed when she bounded up to Bruce Wayne and jumped into his arms, kissing him on both cheeks gently and slinging her arms around his neck. Jonathan's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He tried not to glare contemptuously and tried to make his icy glare look more like a daydreaming look. Luckily no one was paying attention.

"How are you?" asked Bruce, "you look amazing."

"Thank you. I'm good," she beamed. "Looking very handsome yourself Bruce," she complimented, turning to Jonathan and holding her hand out. He cautiously took it and glanced at Wayne.

"You work at Arkham, don't you?" asked Bruce.

"Yes..."

"I'm Bruce Wayne," smiled Bruce.

"Dr. Jonathan Crane," nodded Jonathan. Bruce gaped.

"I have some of your books," he nodded. Jonathan raised a brow. He didn't think they were that popular but if they'd caught the attention of Bruce Wayne then something was obviously decent about them. "They've taught me a lot."

"I'm pleased they could," nodded Jonathan curtly. He still didn't like Bruce Wayne for he had thieved Alison of affection she would maybe never show Jonathan again.

**/-^1^-\**

Alison successfully coerced Jonathan into getting tipsy at the bare minimum. She happened to be quite deeply into the process of getting drunk. It didn't make her any less pretty though, and she was a smart drunk woman and retained some balance actually.

Not that Jonathan was going to pass the opportunity to hold her hand to 'keep her upright'. Sure, most of his night had been spent following Alison whilst she chattered away to a few of the guests who wanted her attention because of her friendship with Bruce Wayne. She didn't reveal anything, apart from the obvious and already known.

At 1 'o' clock in the morning the party had seen about a 1/4 of the total amount of guests leave, but it surprisingly made the space clearer. Alison was being caught up with many pestering people, all of them reporters. She looked quite harassed but Bruce broke up the situation

"Can I steal Dr. MacLeod from you?" asked Bruce, approaching the crowd of question goers. She sighed in relief and grinned at him. "Figured you could use some help."

"Thanks," she laughed, giving him a quick hug. Bruce squeezed her shoulder and left elsewhere to go talk to one of his work colleagues, leaving Alison to approach Jonathan. _Oh thank God! _Jonathan thought.

"Sorry Mr. Bryan," said Jonathan, turning to Alison. She held out a drink to him and he raised a brow.

"Take it, down it and enjoy it," she demanded, holding the glass to his lips. He laughed and tried to drink but pushed it down before it inevitably got poured all over his face.

Mr. Bryan slowly moved away, sensing he would soon be outstaying his welcome. But more because the austere and very professional Dr. Crane had suddenly become slightly creepy and suddenly revealed how drunk he was. He'd carried a good pretence until then.

"That muppet was so boring," grunted Jonathan, rubbing his eyes and taking his glasses off, pocketing them.

"Well, now I'm here," she beamed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He thought his vision was going crazy for a moment.

"How high are your heels!"

"Err... 6 inches?" she guessed, "1 inch platform included in that. Why? Because you can't rest your chin on my head now?" she giggled. _Tease... _

"You can put your arms around my neck without needing a boost! _That's _the frightening thing," he pointed out, tilting his head and raising a brow. "You're really drunk, how are you still standing?" he asked, hardly able to keep balance himself now he'd taken his glasses off.

"I'm not REALLY drunk," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"A sober Alison wouldn't act this way," he said lowly, feeling suddenly glum.

"Yes I would!" she gasped, gazing at him softly. He shook his head stubbornly.

"Merry Christmas," he smiled, wanting to get off the topic. He'd never said that to anyone before, or if he had he didn't remember meaning it.

"Merry Christmas," she grinned, locking lips passionately with him by surprise. This was way different to any expression they'd given each other before, but it was nice all the same.

* * *

><p><em>Even I was waiting for this moment!<em>


	24. Christmas Day

_Three!_

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Christmas Day._ /-^1^-\

Alison pulled the door back and glanced up at Jonathan, smiling. He was holding flowers and a bottle of wine in his hands.

"I swear I had this planned before Christmas day. Then I got blathered with you, kissed you and now it looks like I'm bargaining for access. I'm not."

She blushed slightly and approached him, going to peck him lightly on the lips. Lack of control saw them making out on the porch. That was also kind of all they had done last night out on one of the small balconies on Wayne Manor too. They were forced to stop when a load of snow from the roof landed on Jonathan. Alison was hysterical at his misfortune.

"Ahh, that's cold," he remarked, "let's hope it's symbolic of... purity or... confetti or something."

"I'll get you a towel," she laughed, wandering upstairs. He stepped in and shut the door, taking his shoes off. She came back down, giving him a towel. He exchanged his gifts for the towel. She glanced at the wine, in adoration because it was her favourite. "Taking the heir of the dog method?" she smirked. He raised a brow, blowing air out in an exasperated manner.

"I'm not drinking ... maybe ever again," he said, "my head is killing me."

"Mine too," she grimaced, placing the flowers into the (what had always been to his awareness) empty vase in the middle of the table, "thanks Jon," she smiled, "how long are you staying for?"

"I hope you don't mind me staying long enough to chat?"

"I was hoping you would actually. Maybe even for Christmas Dinner?"

"...Mmm," he grinned.

He could tell Alison was feeling like muck in the bottom of a skip. She was wearing a slack knit jumper and leggings which weren't her normal attire even for day wear. He hadn't exactly dressed up himself, in a thin red flannel checked shirt and plain black jeans.

They both prepared Christmas dinner together. Alison confessed this would be her first Christmas dinner which upset Jonathan greatly. Even he had experienced one sit down dinner with others. They did also open the wine, just for one drink. Or two. Over dinner though, so it was fine. They were happily chatting, having fun with each other, mainly in the form of petty taunts as per usual. It was only when they sat down and cuddled up on the sofa by the fire that they really spoke about what they needed to.

"How do you feel about things?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder

"You mean so much to me," he whispered into her ear, "I'm still sorry, I still regret what I did. And I just think every day that I am so lucky you have given me a second chance. I promise, no matter what, I won't blow it."

"It doesn't bother me now. The initial shock was just the hard part to overcome. I trust you more than... I trust you more than... I trust Bruce, and I didn't start off with a cat-mouse relationship with him like I did with you."

"We've been testing each other from day one," laughed Jonathan, "in little ways."

"It's fun," she giggled.

"Well, let's not stop," he said, raising a brow. He picked his head up and felt her forehead. "You have a fever."

"I don't feel well," she nodded. "I think I got a bit of a cold from our walk in the rain."

"Ugh, don't tell me you kissed me because you're ill!" he teased.

"No! Shouldn't you be bothered I am ill and I've kissed you?"

"I don't mind."

"I genuinely feel thrilled about last night. I have been wishing I'd get over myself on the whole loneliness for a long time and just do that. I... generally, think panic over-rides pleasure, except for that instance. Like bungee jumping; we nearly all want to do it yet most of us have that terrible fear the bungee will snap or something. I totally blame inebriation for the change of heart, but thank heck, right?"

He wasn't focusing massively. _'panic over-rides pleasure'. _Did that mean that **fear **held more sovereignty over **pleasure**? For a moment he was concerned; concerned that such a thing would realistically annihilate his chances with Alison.

"Where do we stand?" he blurted out.

"You mean..."

"Dating? Going out? Testing waters?" he quizzed "Getting married!" he chuckled.

"Where should we?" she smiled, breaking to a laugh as he pulled her a demented look of urgency.

"Awh... that question is just a mask for your shyness, Ally. It's cute. You know what I want; you've known for a while as well because I did tell you. You only chose to respond as if I didn't mean it that way but you knew the truth."

"I know. I'm sorry about that."

"Well, I understand. And that's where I'm at. It leaves you to make your mind up."

She sat up and nodded, leaning in for a kiss. He took this as a positive sign and smiled too, kissing her back quickly. _I WANT AN ANSWER NOW! PLEASE! _

"I'd like there to be an us."

"Then so be it," he whispered softly. It was the same tone he used when speaking to victims, telling them to get control of the situation though he knew they wouldn't. But this was because he was concerned. Was she wrong; were fear and pleasure equals?

He now had a new objective.

"You look creepy when you smile," she remarked. He didn't know he was smiling, he didn't feel like he was. Jonathan winced and raised a brow.

"So... subtle aren't we, Alison?"

"It's because you don't smile much!" she shrugged.

"Don't expect me to smile again now," he huffed. She grinned cheekily which lightened up his mood. Anyway, she was right. He let a heartfelt chuckle slide. "It's nice to see _you _smile. Ally, when you said you wished things would be better? What did you mean? What do you want to better?

"Everything, sometimes I want everything to be better. Sometimes, I just want the little things to be better," she whispered.

"I want to be the one who does that for you," he vowed, going in for another kiss. Oh, he could EASILY get used to this.

* * *

><p><em>Oh Alison :')<em>


	25. Cleaning Up

_If there is one thing I'm not super good at with fan fictions, it's picking up the pace. I have all sorts going on in my other writing work, so I don't know why. _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _1 Week Later. Monday. _/-^1^-\

Jonathan felt himself experiencing a drastic change. Now he had successfully struck up a relationship with Alison, the demeanour he carried at work resolved back it's cold and professional state. It was only because he knew she'd be going home with him or himself with her.

He was quite proud of himself though. He really had thought his first ever girlfriend would start to be something of a fascination and he'd end up acting like one of those couples who had the typical case of being way too public about their love.

He went the opposite way entirely, but that did segregate his life even more than beyond the normal extent. Jonathan, Dr. Crane, Scarecrow. They all ran different lives.

Not that Alison hadn't also divided home and work suddenly. She walked in at 8am, heels clicking on the floor in one of her very businesslike suits and her slim black framed glasses perched on her nose, briefcase in one hand and as she walked by Jonathan she simply smiled and nodded.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly.

"Morning," he smiled, slipping into the main office.

At 11am two members from the board arrived to see Alison. She was surprised to find them accompanied by Bruce. She shook his hand politely to seem formal and grinned at him.

"Hello," she said, surprised.

"Hey. I asked if I could come along as I do fund this place partly," he winked.

"Nice to have you here," she nodded, guiding all three people into her office.

The two people from the HR department introduced themselves and got straight to the point. They discussed how she felt things operated, how she had organised everyone profiles. They explained they'd be doing some observation and some interviews. The next question was a sudden surprise.

"Dr. MacLeod, we were wondering what your view on Dr. Penrose is."

"Well," said Alison, "he's a little... all over the place really. And I haven't seen him actively doing much. In fact, I'm surprised to see him not behind his desk. And I do believe he has his favourites within this institution. Now I know no one is ever really free of bias, or a boss won't make better relations with some than others; but when the allegations against the two people recently taken to court were first put out he was very reluctant to accept it or take it seriously."

"Have you ever received or overheard any complaints about Dr. Penrose?"

"There is a lot of claim he himself is beginning to show psychiatric symptoms. Particularly delirium, which some have suggested is due to a mental breakdown after the loss of his friend; Dr. Arkham himself."

"The loss?"

"He refuses to be referred to as Dr. Arkham or by his true name; only Black mask."

"Is there anyone within Arkham you suggest would have to correct experience and insight to the staff here to conduct a repeat of your observations?"

"Well, perhaps Dr. Albert Weiss. I know he's been here for 20 years and keeps very much to himself but does interact with everyone." She HAD considered saying Jonathan but she couldn't give him too much favouritism, and Bruce would notice and he didn't have the best relationships.

"Thank you Dr. MacLeod. Could you take us to him?"

"Of course. His file is actually here if you want a look-see yourself before you see him."

"Checks out as a good candidate," one of them nodded.

They entered Dr. Albert Weiss's office and the two HR workers discussed with him their presence and their request. Alison left temporarily to get the folders and when Albert had agreed he was left with the files. They missed out what they'd said about Penrose.

"We won't tell him about Dr. Penrose. We'll get someone from the board to do his assessment but keep your eyes open and if you overhear anything see what you can push out," said Paul, shaking Alison's head. "Thank you for your time Dr. MacLeod."

"No, thank you," smiled Alison, "I'm happy you trust my judgement."

They left as briefly as they came, a goodbye exchange, quick handshake and go. Bruce somehow managed to excuse himself and wandered into Alison's office.

"Looks like they're looking to get him out," she said.

"Not a lot of people like Dr. Penrose," said Bruce, "before Dr. Arkham was admitted, he was very rude to people and demeaning. This change has been a little concerning."

"He seemed relatively nice at first. Then I noticed that demeanour drop."

"He did do that before. He'd be sickly sweet then very nasty."

"People like that really get on my nerves."

"Yeah, mine too."

"I heard some business went down on Saturday."

"A murder," grimaced Bruce, "beaten to death with a crow bar or other thin tool perhaps. Seems like it could escalate though."

"The crime here follows some normal patterns, it's only the theatrics which are exaggerated."

"Did you expect more?"

"I expected less; but I think that a lot of the terror and the uproar is a bit more socially constructed."

"I could have caused a lot of problems."

"You may well have spurred inspiration in those more far-fetched minds in this city; you might have also aggravated them, but something would eventually and it may not have been you," she pointed out, "Crime does have its ways; so does the criminal."

"You're the right person for the job," smiled Bruce, standing up, "I'll see you later; I'm going to run my business," he laughed, hugging Alison and leaving. She ran her fingers over her bookcase and sighed after a moment.

The phone went and she answered it.

"Good morning this is Dr. Alison MacLeod."

"It's Jim Gordon."

"Oh hello Commissioner!"

"Can I meet you at 10am tomorrow morning? I want you to have this job. Batman's quite keen on it; says you're perfect for it."

"Really?" she grinned, "absolutely. Is there anything I need to prepare?"

"Just your current CV and your wisdom," he answered.

"Thank you very much, Commissioner Gordon."

"Oh, you're very welcome. If Batman likes you, I'm sure you're going to be promising."

"Thank you," she laughed.

"You and I both know it's true. Goodbye Dr. MacLeod."

"Goodbye Commissioner," she grinned, placing the phone down. Her day couldn't get any better.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Thursday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan tapped his glass with Alison's, smiling warmly at her.<p>

"Congratulations," he said, slipping his hand into hers. He lifted it and kissed the back of her hand.

"Thank you," she beamed, doing a little wiggle in her seat of apparent excitement.

"Who's house are we going to after this?" he asked, glancing over his glass of water. He refused to get drunk again. Once his aching limbs had recovered he realised how bad his headache was on Christmas.

"Awfully presumptuous," she grinned.

"You know; I'm just aware you'll turn around and make the suggestion so I'm putting it onto the table first," he pointed out, raising a brow with a smug look. She stuck her tongue out at him pretty flirtatiously because she knew he was right.

"Where do you want us to go?"

"You make that decision. I'm fine either way."

"Well, I think we need a change of scene," she suggested. Jonathan nodded.

"Me too," he smiled. He'd super prepared his apartment yesterday. Sure; he kept a very clean and tidy home but he had all his research and some of his work at home which he wasn't so sure he could reveal to Alison. That was painful. He knew he wanted to tell her, to 100% let her in and share it but he knew she'd be scared and do something about it to try and change him but it was an irreversible process; one not fully formed but definitely going to happen though. Even if he didn't know it.

"So, what exactly are you doing with Gordon?"

"Criminal profiling, it would seem. Apparently the Batman is the one who wants me working there. Also perhaps interviews," she shrugged.

"Ah, well, if you've been appointed by the Batman I'm sure you're life is about to get interesting," he smirked.

"He's a very cold person and that, I do not like."

"I thought I was cold."

"Yeah, but you're not with me."

"Well... you know..." he muttered, actually blushing as he gazed at the table. "You're-"

"Different! Please! You were attracted to me from day 1. Well, the second day 1. You were just curious on the first day 1."

"Yes, kind of, I thought you were stunning," he laughed, "I tried to put up every barrier possible but you ripped them down without knowing or trying after though."

"I _was _joking," she revealed, "but... wow! I'm happy you said that since... I didn't know you were capable."

"Don't worry; nor did I," he grinned.

* * *

><p><em>Working with the Batman, hmm?<em>


	26. Care Home For The Insane

_Swear I'll try pick up the pace for this a little bit. *Try*_

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Next Week. Monday. _/-^1^-\

"You can't do this!" cried Penrose as he was being escorted out. He'd been told on Sunday not to go in and to go to somewhere else for a meeting. He'd failed to show up and people came around to escort him out. "STOP!" he barked.

"Dr. Penrose, it would be much more comfortable for us all if you just come with us," said a man who looked to be muscle. Everyone who had an office along that corridor had heard the disruption and had come to look out. Dr. Albert Weiss was at the end, looking pretty thrilled.

"GET OFF ME YOU LOWLY SCUM!" snarled Dr. Penrose.

"Now, now, Dr. Penrose," said one of the people who had come to see Alison for the discussion, "that's absolutely no way to speak to your fellow humans. No one is beneath you."

"All of you are for this mutiny!" he roared at the doctors along the corridor. He dug his heels into the ground when he got to Alison. "This was your doing; wasn't it?" he asked, seeming calm. Jonathan pulled her back over protectively.

"Actually, this was a mutual agreement," said Albert, causing Dr. Penrose to snap his head around. He was dragged out the rest of the way.

"We all know they were men in white coats in disguise," said one doctor. There were a few wry smirks and nods of agreement.

"Who's in charge now?" asked someone.

"I've been handed those responsibilities temporarily," smiled Albert, about to shuffle back into his office. Alison knocked and entered.

"Temporarily, Albert?" she asked.

"I'm going to retire, but I'm happy to take those duties until they find someone new," he smiled, "thank you for handing it to me."

"Oh, it's fine. I thought you'd have good judgement."

"Well, I whole heartedly agreed with your first evaluation," he smiled.

"Thanks," she grinned. "I know you might not be able to tell me; but what'll be happening to those who aren't meeting standards?"

"Well, I'll be conducting observations - the board will come in at some point I imagine and it'll be taken from there.

"Alison, I don't suppose you're aware we take about 8 students on here every year around this time, are you?"

"From the college?" she asked, vaguely aware.

"Yes. Would you mind taking two? I looked in your file, you have relevant experience," he smiled, "you've achieved a lot for your age."

"Thank you. I like to work hard. I'd be happy to take two, of course."

"Thank you," he nodded.

"I'll leave you to your work," nodded Alison, leaving quietly.

She glanced back into her office and found Jonathan roaming around still. She wandered in, shutting the door behind her. She did a little jump of joy.

"You need to explain your joy to me so I can feel like doing the same," remarked Jonathan. Alison giggled.

"I'm going to start taking more people to court if this is what it's going to result in. Staff communicating, being a little happier even though the job is grim and the right people being around!"

"No one quite had your motivation to get people progressing."

"I know the more extreme cases aren't leavers, but I think some of the low key patients could get shifted. Have you ever noticed we're more like a care home for the insane?"

"...Gosh, you're right," frowned Jonathan. He hadn't actually thought about it that way.

/-^1^-\ _1 week later. Weekend. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

Alison perched on the edge of the seat as she drove around the corner at break-neck speed on the racing game. She cackled madly as Jonathan still lamely pushed the controls around, trying to get a grasp of it.

"I don't see how this is fun."

"Hey, look at me! I'm laughing-"

"At my failure."

"Awwh, poor Johnny!" she giggled, moving into first place on the game. "I think I win!"

"I think I lose three times over," he remarked, raising a brow and glaring at the controller as if it had done something wrong to him.

"You're continuing until you get the hang of it and have a laugh!" she warned.

"But I'll become idle and mindless!" he whined, crossing his legs and arms pretending to be a mood.

"I'll put you on the naughty step," she remarked. He laughed and picked up the controller again. And went on to win the next race with a surprising grasp of the controls suddenly rushing to him. "Did you hear about Albert?"

"Retiring! I know!"

_"This is falling into place nicely. It's like she orchestrated the way for me," smirked Jonathan. One of the thugs frowned._

_"I thought you was seeing her, Doc."_

_"I am. But it doesn't mean I'm going to be soft in building my esteem."_

_"Isn't that using her as a means to an ends a little bit?" asked Albert, shuffling a deck of cards and dealing them. _

_"I'm not ... you've made me feel bad. Thanks." _

_"She's not suitable for the role," said Albert, shaking his head, "she's too young."_

_"You think she's mature!" _

_"Yeah, but she's also fun loving - and having a job like that strips you off your free time." _

_"...Oh, I didn't..."_

_"Think about that? Yeah, but you can handle that responsibility because you don't need quite the same freedom she will. She might not even realise she needs it."_

_"You have suggested me, right?" asked Jonathan, pointing at Albert. _

_"The first," he nodded. It felt good to know he had Albert on his side, as always. _

_"This place is going to miss you though," smiled Jonathan, shaking the test tube and pouring its contents into a conical flask. _

_"How are you planning to test that?"_

_"Willing self-selected participants," said Jonathan, "I'll use the university or college to do that."_

_"Fold," sighed the thug as Albert went all in. Albert turned his hand over and revealed how poor it was and cackling as he scooped up the winnings. _

_"You're not going to retire, you're just going to live life as a casino ace," laughed Jonathan._

_"To right I am! I deserve it thank you very much," said Albert, re-dealing the cards._

* * *

><p><em>I'm kinda plagiarising myself, because in my other 'novel' (It just can't be called that but no other word works better) works Albert is one of my characters so I really hope if I take it to publishers and they somehow find this they don't hold it against me that I do that because we all hit a brick wall sometimes and this is what I did. Damn *crosses fingers*. <em>


	27. Victim Card

_I made myself hate the new introduction in this chapter; hopefully I can convince you to do the same. Enjoy._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Next Week. Monday. _/-^1^-\

Alison was given a guy and a girl to look after and teach a little on practical's under Albert's assistance. He'd briefed her on what to do anyway but she'd know in advanced what she had to do.

The two students were Dorian Leonard and Sophia McDonald. They clearly didn't like each other. They were standing facing ever so slightly apart with a large gap in between them and Alison instantly realised that to get them to work together a lot would be an issue.

"My name is Dr. Alison MacLeod and in relation to the staff entrance it is the second door you will encounter in case you didn't consider it," said Alison, "It's 9am, and I'm just going to get all the paperwork and things for you to sign then by 10am hopefully I can show you around and area's you will need to be aware of."

She left to go to the main office and bent down to open the draw and pulled out all the paperwork that she'd need, lifting out her folder. When she stood up someone gripped her shoulders.

"Jesus Christ!" she cried, letting out a panic stricken sigh. Jonathan cackled lowly in her ear.

"Sorry," he said. He wasn't at all. "Did I see you ride in on a motorbike this morning, Alison?"

"I presume so if you were looking out of the window when you heard the sound of a motorbike."

"It looks quite nice..."

"Ducati... ohhh," she gasped, fluttering her eyelashes. Jonathan cringed, still not used to the fact she was apparently turned on by odd things like that. "It's beautiful!"

"I guess that is one way to describe it," he remarked, raising a brow, "since when could you ride a motorbike?"

"Since I was 20. Why are you so curious?"

"Just surprised. Okay, no... I'm worried. This all goes back to you being a little unstable on the stairs and yet choosing the oddest methods of travel."

"I'll be fine. Trust me. I'm used to it," she smiled.

"Okay," sighed Jonathan, kissing her cheek quickly and backing away. "Oh are those student forms!"

"Yep."

"You didn't tell me you had some students."

"Just two." He was surprised. She wasn't nervous about it at all, he could tell. Then again, she had previously taught before. He _might _have taken intense interest in her CV when she first came.

"I've got one. I think she's insane," frowned Jonathan, "and illegitimately interested in drugs," he laughed, unlocking a draw.

"Ah, thank goodness. I thought you were stalking on me by coming in here," she said, doing a fake sigh of relief. He stood straight and glared at her, picking a rubber-band from the top and firing it at her. She squealed and ran out of the main office. "Bastard," she muttered.

"Heard that," he replied.

"Would this be your student?" asked Alison, guiding a girl with bright blonde hair and wet looking blue eyes.

"Ivana... I was just getting the paperwork."

"I got scared," whispered Ivana, stepping closer. Alison turned around and left, which made Jonathan little nervous. Ivana was a creep! But then something made him pay attention to Ivana.

"Scared?" he asked. The weird adolescent nodded with a smile. "Why it's only an office - a large one at that," he remarked, raising a brow. He offered rationality, despite his internal intention to strip it away.

**/-^1^-\**

"Are you aware of possession of a fine _derrière_ in leather?" remarked Jonathan, pushing the door shut. Alison looked over her shoulder and smirked, placing her keys down.

"Unusually flirtatious language," she observed.

"I don't know; the view seemed to call for it. And I am human after all," he grinned, walking up behind her and unzipping the jacket, slipping it off her shoulders. He kissed her neck and hung it up behind him. When he turned back around she was facing him. He jumped and laughed nervously.

"I don't know why I jumped."

"I'm closer," she pointed out. He put his arm out and found himself able to reach her much easier. He clutched her top zip at first then moved his hand a little lower slowly, taking his time over the process before clutching her hips.

"I don't remember you wearing that at work."

"That's because I wasn't. I decided to go for a ride before I came home and I wanted to feel the part. It's also why I told you to come in late."

"Amazing," he smiled, undoing the button and working on the zip. She tilted her head and kissed him, moving closer.

"Where is this going?" she whispered, speaking into his open mouth.

"I don't know."

"I'm asking if we should move somewhere comfier than the stairs," she said dryly.

"Are you suggesting we sleep together?" he smirked. She nodded coyly. "Okay," he nodded.

"Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan?" she gaped. All he did was smile deviously at her. He was waiting for her to show her certainty, which she did so by not wasting a second more just stood around, leading him, practically like a dog on a leash, to the bedroom.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan hummed as he got out the folder from the filing cabinet for the day's work. Thankfully, he was partnered with someone else in the research labs so it wasn't all bad. And anyway, last night put him in high spirits. Things were okay for now. Albert strolled in and raised a brow, tilting his head in a curious manner much like a dog might when it heard a similar bark.<p>

"Do we need to call the board on you boy?" he asked. Jonathan jumped.

"No, I'm just in high spirits," he laughed.

"Nice change," scoffed Albert. Jonathan pulled him a false hurt look which Albert could see right through. He left the office chuckling. Jonathan sheepishly laughed to himself too and left with the folder he needed. As wandered down the hall and nearly rolled his eyes but managed to refrain as Ivana was gazing down. _ Great, ruin my spirit... _He held a finger up and glanced into Alison's office. She was in, and alone. He sighed in sheer relief and pressed himself to the door.

"My student is weird," he stated, "she really is."

"How?"

"She's always looking for me, she hangs out on the corridor until I arrive, waiting for me!"

"She's probably just nervous, give them a break Johnny."

"I ... I didn't say she wouldn't be nervous I mean... she's a bit of a stalker."

"Then transfer her."

"I need to keep a perfect record," he insisted, looking panicked.

"Hoping to get promoted?" she laughed, grinning. He shrugged casually and nodded, perplexed all the same. He hadn't even told her about that little aspiration.

"I should give myself a bit of a chance, right?"

"I know you've been recommended, Albert told me yesterday. Jon, My students are due; go see to your creepy one," she laughed, pushing her heel lightly into his backside to encourage his exit.

"Oww, bitch," he cried, rubbing his buttocks "don't blame me if I turn insane," he muttered on his way out as Alison cackled at his snappy comeback.

He pulled the door back and gasped. Ivana was glaring up at him from the corridor, her watery blue eyes fixed on his. He waited for her to move whilst trying to glance at Alison who was digging around in her filing cabinet with her back turned. _Bloody. Typical. Alison. Please! **HELP! **_

"What are you doing?" he blurted out in a higher pitch than he intended.

"What are _you _doing? You're supposed to be teaching me."

"Yeah and I was just talking to my colleague about something we needed to discuss from yesterday," he said, still waiting for her to move.

Dorian and Sophia approached the door.

"Erm... Excuse me?" said Sophia as Ivana didn't budge. Ivana turned to glare at Sophia and took a step back.

"There you go, Miss McDonald," she sneered.

Jonathan flattened himself to the door and nodded at the two other students before flying out of the door himself before Ivana could block him again. He shut the door to and nodded his head to the end of the corridor, leaving Ivana no choice but to walk.

"Hi," said Jonathan, nodding to a doctor named Irene Milligan. She was an alright person actually, kept herself to herself, did the job and went home. It was easy going for Jonathan to be working in the same room as her and her two students.

Apparently no one got on with Ivana. The two students in there, two boys, were very disturbed if she approached them at all. Not too evidently, but their posture tensed and they looked uncomfortable somewhat. It was in their eyes that Jonathan could see the utter displeasure they both had. Dr. Milligan didn't seem fond of Ivana either.

This would become Ivana's next tactic, Jonathan learned. She was stood behind one of the other students and when he turned around he jumped and moved away. Ivana suddenly burst into tears. Jonathan was talking to the other student and tried to continue in order to ignore the situation. Ivana stormed out and Dr. Milligan turned to Jonathan.

"I'm sure she'll calm down after a moment."

"No, she won't. She'll keep crying like that until someone pays attention," muttered the guy Jonathan was helping. Jonathan had no choice. Since Ivana was his student, it'd be his responsibility probably.

"Why did you run out?" asked Jonathan. She was right outside, dabbing her eyes with a hankie.

"Are you stupid, Dr. Crane? I'm crying! That's why."

"Okay. Why are you crying?" he asked, unconcerned and coldly.

"Because everyone hates me!"

"You were stood behind that guy; didn't you expect a surprised reaction? That isn't hate, it's shock."

"No, no. I know everyone glares at me and bitches about me and it's just plain nasty because I never did anything to them. I never did anything wrong they just push me out!"

Jonathan wondered if he were supposed to feel sympathy suddenly. It seemed to be what she wanted and that was something he just couldn't give her because he didn't care in the slightest. He tried not to let this show and did the only thing that seemed doable in the situation and imitate concern to the best of his abilities whilst gritting his teeth and mentally hammering his own head in if his deepest thoughts didn't do that for him.

"Listen, if they're pushing you out they're obviously focusing more on making your life hard than their work and whilst they're doing that, they're just opening the path of success for you to walk along," he said, wanting to curse himself for blabbering such nonsense. She'd never be successful with her frame of mind and so far she hadn't demonstrated . She gazed at Jonathan for a while, looking like she was in admiration of his words and then let out a small smile and nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane," she said in a sweet voice. He swallowed the need to retch. She stood straight and wandered past him back into the room.

* * *

><p><em>I just ... hate... her... <em>


	28. I Love You

/-^1^-\ _Same Week. Thursday. _/-^1^-\

Ivana had been yelled at for eating her dinner in the corridor outside the lab by Dr. Milligan. She ran to Dr. Crane's office door and hammered on it, tears down her face. It was Dr. MacLeod who answered to her.

"Where's Dr. Crane!" she cried. Alison raised a brow.

"He's out for a few minutes. What's the matter?"

"Dr. Milligan shouted at me for eating my lunch."

"I'm sure she wouldn't just irrationally yell out you, Ivana."

"No, Dr. MacLeod, you don't understand. She keeps bitching about me to Dr. Crane! She's got something against me! I really need to speak to him!"

"Uhh, he's out. Listen, go back to the canteen and find your fellow students or maybe find a spot outside."

"I don't know where the canteen is," whispered Ivana.

"So where were you eating?"

"The corridor outside the lab."

"Well that's why Dr. Milligan shouted. You're not allowed to eat on any of the corridors."

"I didn't know!" she wailed, burying her head in her hands. When the door went again she turned and ran out.

Jonathan pointed at the door dumbfound, holding a bag with some food in for them from the café.

"You should probably go find her."

"She can't get anywhere she isn't supposed to go and I am starving!"

"I don't think you want to look negligent right now," she warned. He sighed and placed the bag down on the chair, slinging his coat over the back.

"She cries for attention. Is it a wise idea?"

"Jon, she's in tears. She may be doing it for attention but what are the chances there is a reason she wants attention?"

"Oh, you think I should deal with that, do you?"

"It's your job. Get a grip," she retorted. He let out another deep sigh and nodded.

"Sorry," he muttered, kissing her cheek and leaving. Alison sat, eating her lunch in solitary and watching the sun move a little across the sky.

"Ivana?" asked Jonathan, glancing around the lab. She squatted up and peeped over the counter. "Err... what's the matter?"

"Dr. Milligan told me off for eating in the corridor and then Dr. MacLeod tried to dismiss it as a rule-"

"It is a rule."

"See, now you're doing it!"

"Ivana, this SIGN says so," he pointed out, tapping it. "It's not a vendetta. They're lovely people, they're only doing it in safeties interest." _Alison, is a lovely person. Dr. Milligan is just normal. _"I am on my break; will you be okay for the next 30 minutes?"

"Yes, Dr. Crane," said Ivana. Jonathan left. Ivana glowered at the door. This tactic wasn't working.

When she went home that night she sat, wondering how to do this best. Crying wasn't working. Maybe making herself valuable to him but she didn't know how. She could offer to do more work, and suck up to him. Or just outright coming on to him. She couldn't have bargained on the person taking her being so ... wow!

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"Stop kicking me," muttered Jonathan.<p>

"I needed to either get you awake or see if you were!" laughed Alison, shivering as he breathed on her neck; it was cold. He wrapped the cover around her body a little more tightly and held her. "Hehe, thanks," she smiled, "what's the plan of action?"

"Go for a walk, as was said, get a bite to eat, go get the dog and whilst your cooing over her I don't suppose if you mind if I make you dinner?" he asked, grinning. It was quite charming.

"Sounds very appealing," she said, curling up a little more. He nodded and kissed her cheek.

When they finally got up 20 minutes later, they got clean and changed and locked the front door of Alison's head, setting off to the park. Usually, Jonathan thought this might have been something he'd suggest but Alison had come up with the idea last night whilst they were getting to a lethargic stage before they needed to physically go to bed.

The chill air was nice and refreshing and brought with it an epiphany they needed to go walking more, and Alison for one would have to go out walking more anyway but Jonathan would only be glad to accompany her of course.

As said, they went and got a small lunch and then set off to the dog, a young golden retriever. Alison was nearly certain she knew what she wanted to call the dog and as soon as she set her eyes on it, she knew she was right. The dog looked at her again as she had before, her dark eyes observing Alison.

She was a rescue puppy and she was only 8 months old. She was quite meek and cautious and whereas the others would bound at the pen she would stay to the side, walking around in a circle for a bit before laying calmly down and she seemed to sigh. If she wanted to get in she never could as the others pushed her out.

"Do you have any ideas what you're going to call the dog?" asked the woman behind the counter looking up at both Alison and Jonathan.

"Lola, I'm thinking," said Alison, crouching down and petting the retriever. Jonathan rolled his eyes and smiled, taking the forms and filling them out.

"It's her dog; she's lucky I love her enough to know all these things about her," he remarked, filing through it all. It surprised him how much he knew. "Well, everything except how to forge her _signature!_"

"Oh," laughed Alison after a minute. She stood and quickly signed and then bent back down. Jonathan shook his head in disbelief, handing over the money and mouthed 'sorry' but the woman grinned and shook her head.

"I'm used to it," she whispered.

"Glad someone is," he remarked, squeezing Alison's shoulder, "the dog is yours, it's okay. Nobody is going to steal it."

Alison giggled and stood straight, sliding her arm around Jonathan and smiling at the woman nervously.

"Thank you very much," said Alison.

"Oh, you're welcome."

"Thanks," nodded Jonathan, picking up the paperwork and booklet on the top as Alison tanked out of the shelter. He raised a brow at the woman and left, following Alison trying to catch up with her as she bounded at a similar speed to the dog. "Honey, I think you forgot me." _Did I just call her honey! _

"Did you just call ME honey!"

"Unless I fancy the dog, yeah I did," he gasped, linking arms with her.

"Honey..." she whispered, biting her lip.

"I didn't mean to say it. Sorry if you find it-"

"No, it's fine Jon! The dog could be called Honey."

"That's so much worse than Lola..."

"She's my dog," whispered Alison, glowering at him.

"I know," he laughed, squeezing her hand, "I'm not saying you shouldn't call her it, I'm saying I think calling the dog Honey isn't to my liking. Better still, use the park scenario! Do you want to be wandering around shouting out 'Honey'?"

"Well I do like Lola..."

"Lola Honey MacLeod?"

"Oooh!" giggled Alison, doing that little ... _wiggle _of excitement she was prone to doing. Jonathan quivered at it for some reason.

When they got home Alison opened the back door that led out from the kitchen which surprised Jonathan because he'd seen the door but had never acknowledged where it led. Stupid because it wasn't exactly going to lead nowhere. He glanced outside into the garden which was beautifully kept. If Poison Ivy would have seen she might have died a little from joy.

Alison was currently teaching Lola her name. She'd call the dog and when the dog approached, gave her a treat and waited until she walked away to explore to call her back. Sometimes she wouldn't approach. Jonathan was preparing dinner, watching the young dog wander around the garden curiously.

"What are you going to do when she defecates all over the garden?"

"Pick it up. I have put a fence around my main plants, so my babies are spared being shat on-"

Jonathan blurted out his drink because he was laughing and proceeded to wipe it off the window using a dish cloth. Alison was laughing hysterically on the other side which excited Lola who wanted to know what was up with her new owner, which only added to the laughter.

Jonathan had his reservations about the new dog which he felt were later proved after dinner when they went to cuddle up on the sofa together and Lola jumped up onto Jonathan's lap, clearly feeling like she was missing out.

"Lola!" warned Jonathan, flicking his hand to the dog bed in the corner. Lola simply panted in his face and nearly licked him until he backed away.

"Lola!" tried Alison, "down!" Lola laid down on Jonathan. He rolled his eyes and glared at Alison.

"Didn't work-"

"I figured that!" snapped Alison, "Lola! Get down," she said, pushing the dog a little. Jonathan moved his weight to the side and Lola slipped off, padding over to her bed looking very dejected by her dismissal.

**/-^1^-\**

"Stop kicking me," muttered Jonathan.

Déjà vu struck him and he awaited Alison's reply but it never came. She was silent until she let out a little cry from under the cover and pushed it back off herself. He sat up and settled his arm down over the other side of her to prevent her falling off, being careful to watch if she opened her eyes so she wouldn't be scared. She was having a nightmare and he realised it genuinely concerned him.

She gripped his arm for a moment at one point and then curled up, holding one arm up to her face as though she were trying to shield herself. It got Jonathan all worked up seeing her scared; he felt a mixture of pleasure and sorrow. _I don't feel pleasure... I feel bemused. _

"STOP!" she screamed, thrashing about wildly as she awoke. Jonathan leapt back and grabbed her hand. "PLEASE STOP HURTING ME! PLEASE! I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" she begged, thrashing about.

"Alison! Alison! Alison! Stop it! Stop, you're okay! ALISON!" he barked sternly. She gained control of her very disorganised breathing and after a few wild glares around in the dark settled her eyes on Jonathan.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "nightmare," she stated, her whole face covered in sweat. She swept her hair back and turned away from him with complete embarrassment. He hooked one finger to her cheek and tilted her back to him, kissing her lightly.

"It's fine," he said gently, laying back with her in his arms, holding her hands tightly. She laid back against him with more comfort as she realised he really was okay with what had just happened.

They both cautiously reared their heads to the left as they head a panting noise to find Lola padding about at the side of the bed. Alison laughed nervously and glanced up at Jonathan. Lola had jumped over the dog gate.

"Unbelievable," he laughed, shaking his head.

"Just leave her," said Alison, settling her head back down on his chest.

"Alright," he whispered, kissing the top of her head and laying his own back against the pillows.

He shut his eyes but opened them after a minute and gazed at the ceiling for a long time, contemplating and bracing himself. He lovingly held Alison, just to let her know she was okay and safe in his arms. After a while she didn't seem so het up.

"Alison?"

"Yeah?"

"...I love you," he said after a long time. Her lips played into a smile.

"I love you too, Jonathan."

* * *

><p><em>I feel like I've moved them on as a couple rather quickly; and by getting the dog not only has she acted a little too late on getting protection in her house, sort of after what <strong>he <strong>did but I think they start to feel a bit like they've got a shot of becoming a family. But I do make it quick for them because of what they had to begin with. And I will ... still ... try to pick up the pace a little xD_


	29. Malice

_I'm slowing down on the posting just a teeeeny tiny bit and trying to get more things going on now, enjoy :) _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Next week. Monday. _/-^1^-\

Jonathan was so pleased she'd responded the way she had. They'd been going out for a month thereabouts and he did feel strongly towards her, and pretty certain that she'd be in his life for a long time.

He was humming at work again. That was until he saw Ivana loitering on the corridor. He held one finger up and went to his favourite diversion in the entire world. Alison. _**Your**__** favourite, maybe.**_

He pursed his lips and sighed when he didn't see her at her desk. Maybe he could pretend! But then he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Alison was stood, leaning against the wall. He tried to speak but couldn't think of anything to say. He was mesmerised. Her glare was sassy and lustful, she was glancing out of the corner of her eyes at him, a small smile on her lips. It was only when she went to make a move to pin him back that he acted and beat her to it, pinning her against the wall.

"You try, I'll make you scream just to pin you back," he warned. He meant he'd tickle her after discovering yesterday that this earned a loud outcry from her. It didn't sound that way of course.

"How are you planning to do that then?" she asked suggestively. The newly found perverse side of him actually welcomed that crude hint. He kept her waiting so long on the thought she gripped his arms and pulled a sorry look at him. "Jon?"

"Guess who's coming home with me tonight," he smirked, pecking her lips. "I mean after all, my table is bigger."

"Table?"

"Did I ... I _meant _bed," he corrected. He had been thinking about how manage the sordid deed it at work but hadn't seen an easy solution to it, though it made him wonder about the table. It was true however; his table was a bit bigger despite less likely occupancy. Alison's only thought was _On a table? Ooh._

She slipped her arms around his neck and they were kissing for at least 5 minutes, maybe closer to 10. This indulgence in moments like these were ever changing and fun. Maybe it kept the spirit of their relationships a little more alive too. They'd started hitting a problem which was mainly Alison's desperation and dependency on him. Her anxiety sparked little arguments sometimes. None of them were too major though, he was good at calming her down.

"Don't you have a student to teach?" she asked suddenly, pulling away.

"Ahh!" groaned Jonathan, glowering with fake malice at her. She smirked and pinched his chin, drawing him close only to kiss him so faintly it was hardly anything. Alison seemed to be a Goddess of kissing tactics and she carried his inexperience and brought him to speed very fast with her way of enticing him with her lips alone that made him need to keep getting more submerged in the passion.

"Later," she whispered, pulling the door open and pushing him out.

He was disconcerted to find Ivana listening in. She hadn't even made an attempt to move though. She glared at Jonathan with malice; real malice and stood up straight.

"Get to the lab, now. And if I ever catch you doing that again, I will do my damn best to have you kicked out."

"You won't be able to do that," she said, turning around and walking away, slipping into the lab.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Ivana had a plan to make Jonathan listen to her. Yesterday she had been normal with him and he had appreciated the back off. Clearly he didn't like a direct approach but she'd have to break that out of him.<p>

She dropped down into the cupboard and held her breath, but this looked relatively normal. She waited, moving her hands around the cupboard for a few minutes until she felt dizzy and then stood back up, holding her breath and covered her mouth and nose and tried to push the air out.

She collapsed back on the floor. Jonathan jumped up and Dr. Milligan shot around, yelping in terror. They both lifted her up and as she came too she adjusted herself and grasped onto a hand; she knew it was Jonathan's. He slipped it out from her hand and pushed her into a sitting position.

"Do we need to call anyone? You can't stay," he said. She shook her head.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

"No, you can't physically stay Ivana. You've fainted," said Dr. Milligan, "we'll get you checked over but I really think you should go to the hospital."

"No! It's not that bad!" cried Ivana. This was backfiring. She should have waited for Jonathan alone. They pulled her up and Jonathan glanced at Dr. Milligan.

"I'm just a psychologist," he shrugged. **_Any excuse. _**

"Right, come on," said Dr. Milligan, guiding Ivana out.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same week. Thursday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"Dr. MacLeod, you know Dr. Crane right?" asked Ivana, standing in Alison's doorway. She'd formulated a new plan after her lack of success yesterday.<p>

"Yeah. He's not in yet." _Dashing off in a rather sexy suit to a meeting this morning, _thought Alison to herself, smiling wryly.

"Good," whispered Ivana, shutting the door, "yesterday he held my hand and I feel a little odd about this."

"Inappropriately?" asked Alison, horrified.

"I feel so," nodded Ivana.

"Okay, go to Dr. Milligan as normal, try to keep your distance and I will try talk to him as soon as I can but I do have a patient to see at 10:30. If I can't talk to him then, I will definitely come by. If he does anything else; you get out and go to Dr. Weiss."

"I'm scared, Dr. MacLeod."

"Do you want to go home?"

"No, I like it here; I like what I get to do but that just shook me up."

"Go calm yourself down, I'll wait for him."

"Okay," nodded Ivana, wiping a tear from her cheek. She turned to the door and smirked, leaving and skipping when out of Alison's line of sight.

Alison shut her door and sank to the ground behind it. She had 30 minutes to compose herself. But that idea, that sickening idea would not leave her. Ivana did look scared, yeah. Her door was pushed but because she was against it there was no budging it. Jonathan moved on.

What if all of those visits had been to give her the illusion he loved her and then he was going to chase after Ivana. He did talk about her an awful lot; but always negatively. Was that to enforce the idea he disliked her?

Even the Riddler knew something was wrong and was a little cautious when she asked him how he was doing, nervously adding the question back to her and surprised to hear her reply in a monotonous tone. Half the session was spent with him delaying his replies out of fear anything he'd say would break her into little tiny pieces.

When they'd finished he was being escorted out.

"Hope you're better soon, Dr. Cloudy," he said on his way out, frowning. She laughed and nodded. He'd genuinely meant it as well.

"Thank you Edward," she said, waiting until he had been escorted away and leaving the interview room. She walked upstairs and into the labs, popping her head around Lab 4.

"Jonathan," she said drearily. He turned his head and dropped what he was doing to step outside with her. Ivana grinned. He was useless with words and Alison believed her. To the side of her, Mickey Barre frowned and then turned away when she shot him a nasty glare.

"You need to come with me," said Alison, going to her office. Jonathan took the privacy as a blessing and went to reach out to her but she stepped back.

"What's wrong?"

"Ivana came to me this morning with a complaint I now have to decide the best course of action on before she does and it could jeopardise your entire career."

"What?" _I __know__ she'd do that to me if she felt she needed to... __**You fool. You are alone. **__No! What do I do?_

"She came to me, and informed me you had held her hand. Did you?"

"N-no... Yes!" he cried, snapping his fingers. Alison rolled her eyes in despair and buried her head in her hands.

"Why!" she snapped, "that's inappropriate-"

"Whoa, hold up there. She took my hand after she collapsed unexpectedly yesterday. I think she touched the first thing that she felt-"

"That sounds like an excuse," said Alison boldly.

"Right, does it? I'm always making excuses for things, aren't I? You know, Alison, you're going to look over us one day and realise you instigate most of the arguments we have with each other - regardless of status. And I think it just changed, don't you?"

"Are _you_ dumping _me_?"

"For heavens sake, I love you. But I can't handle your accusations towards me, and they're getting more frequent and more elaborate as if you're trying to push me out. And some of them are in passing joke but it still hurts me because I know you're only imploring your suspicions in a light way. If you don't trust me, how can this work? I didn't do anything... get a grip, and speak to me instead of hitting out your insecurities on me!"

"Didn't I just lose that opportunity?" she snarled. He stood at the door and nodded.

"Guess you did."


	30. Think I'm Joking?

*_offers cake to readers_*

* * *

><p><strong>-^1^-\**

"It's better you tell me now so I can make a decision or you will only have to stand in front of a panel of people and tell them what you _can_ tell me here. And then, I can record what you have said and relay that to HR if I need to take it to them."

"Can I have some paper?" asked the young student, Mickey, frowning. Alison raised a brow. He'd come to talk to her but he wouldn't talk.

"Why?" she frowned, handing it to him anyway. He scribbled something down which prompted Alison to lean over. "Will she be listening in now?"

"I don't know but trust me, she goes out of her way to make your life difficult. She fainted yesterday, but she purposely did it to herself. Dr. Milligan and Dr. Crane helped her up and she grasped his hand, he moved away."

"Did he look uncomfortable?"

"Very. Look, I know we're only here for one more week. She'll up her game if you don't take action on her allegation."

"If he isn't guilty there is little I can do. But, I think I'll get someone to observe the situation and during the interview time or therapy I want you to swap with Ivana?"

"Cool," smiled Mickey, laughing a little. He looked relieved somehow. "Dr. MacLeod, there is something not ... right about Ivana. Just watch yourself. I know I'm just a kid, you're a professional psychologist but ... yeah."

"Do you have something more to tell me?"

"Sure, I'm no psychologist yet, but she has taken a liking to Dr. Crane and she obviously feels you're a threat. So she's trying to make you distrust him and it's working so far. If she thinks you're taking him away from her, she might blame you and later trash allegations she made or even claim she re-thought and didn't actually feel it was an issue."

"Thank you," nodded Alison. "I promise there won't be any repercussions on you."

"Thanks," smiled Mickey, standing up and leaving.

**/-^1^-\**

Alison pulled the door back to find a very meek looking Jonathan stood on the porch, surprisingly holding a bouquet of flowers. She was in a slack baby blue pyjama's having given up on appearance totally, and she was still holding back tears that wanted to leave even though she had company. She had make up all down her face.

"Mickey told me about your conversation. Very smart boy. Well, I jumped to assumptions you might be okay with me now; but I foolishly forgot my harsh cursed accusations. I panicked and asked Albert how I won you back; he told me flowers worked sometimes and I laughed because I thought it was too typical. I remembered you loved flowers and what they meant. But I started and want to finish, sorry if this hurts more."

"Come in," she whispered. He stepped inside nervously.

"Oh, Alison," he sighed, wiping her tears. She burst into many more and clung tightly to him.

"Please. Jon, please don't leave me," she begged. "I'm-"

"No! I am the one who is sorry," he said quickly, laying the flowers on the coffee table and gripping her tightly. "I don't want to leave, not ever."

"I don't mean to be paranoid," she whispered, "I just... I can't help it," she gasped, burying her head in his shoulder.

He took his coat off and threw it onto the chair by the window and sat down with her in his arms. Lola hopped up and laid beside them, looking upset. Jonathan felt even more guilty. He patted Lola on the head and turned his head to Alison, kissing her gently.

"I love you. I wish you'd realise you don't have to accuse me of doing things behind your back. I don't even have the confidence to try be a scoundrel - and most importantly, I would never want to be."

She nodded and curled up to him, clutching his arm tightly. He turned to Lola and smiled.

"We're back together again!" he exclaimed. Lola panted and wagged her tail.

"Awfully-"

"-Presumptuous," he grinned, "we are, right?"

"Please," she smiled. "I missed you despite only being apart from you a few hours. The thought of curling up in bed lonely but feeling doomed to more lonely nights than one was painful."

"I didn't even try. I avoided home," he confessed. "I couldn't have tried."

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Next week. Monday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Ivana was so pissed that her plan had yet again backfired. She was stropping around like a little child that morning. She didn't even notice Jonathan slip out of the lab for a while. He went to his office and promptly called the college.<p>

"I need to speak to lecturers regarding a student placement here at Arkham Asylum."

"Who is it?"

"Ivana Scott."

"Please wait a minute."

He was put through to someone else after a piano rendition lasting years.

"We're sorry sir but her tutor isn't here at this moment in time but if you try again later all you have to do is ask for Professor Adelaide."

"Alright. Thank you," he said, putting down the phone. He sighed and stood up, exiting his office. Ivana was stood outside the door. She glared at him maliciously.

"Call them again and I'll make you regret it-"

"That, Ivana, is a threat and it is unnecessary and offensive."

"You think I'm joking. Try your best and-"

"If you do anything, I will make sure you don't get a fair shot at your desired career at the bare MINIMUM."

"That's a threat. It's unnecessary and offensive and irresponsible from a man of your age who is an esteemed doctor."

"You think I'm joking?" he retorted, pushing the door open to the lab and wandering in.

"Jon! Can you help me?" asked Alison, holding a massive box. He took it in his arms and grinned.

"Weakling," he laughed, "Thank you."

"Erm... for what? No! Thank you!"

"It means a lot to me when you call me Jon," he muttered, smiling warmly and planting the box onto the cupboard shelf. "You seem more fond of me," he grinned.

"I'm always fond of you," she laughed.

* * *

><p><em>If currently there are several inaccuracies in what I'm saying, especially regarding the work placement, apologies but it's just not something I can get my head around properly. No idea if I'm calling it a college or a uni or what. <em>


	31. Emotionally Unstable

/-^1^-\ _Same Week. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

"Bye," said Alison, kissing Jonathan quickly and leaving his office. She pulled her helmet on and left the building. Jonathan, from the window, watched her ride off down the road.

His lip twitched and he turned to his desk, picking his briefcase up and pulling out a set of keys, sitting down for a few minutes to read through a few documents and finish odds and ends of paperwork before heading for the basement. Albert was down there playing poker with a group of thugs. He was good at rinsing them dry.

Albert was a man with two faces. You instantly trusted him as a psychiatrist and there was no kidding he was good at what he did. His advice was always very good. But his other life was very extravagant and he was a bit of a con-artist BUT he never played dirty with honest people.

He'd started it out of anger after his elderly mother had been burgled and her diamond wedding ring had been stolen. Albert's father was dead and they never got the ring back and no replacement would do. It was still a sore memory. But he hit out by tricking thugs out of their money. Jonathan actually found it admirable.

"Jonathan, you joining?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"No, I was going to continue with my project if that is okay?"

"Say, what are you doing with that?"

"I'm not sure," shrugged Jonathan. Albert would never approve. "I'm just investigating fear but I'm making sure it's consensual and maybe looking at nullifying fears," he lied.

"It's a good idea. We're all inhibited by our fear," nodded Albert, oblivious, "I had some research on fear, boy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. My old man had panic disorder, I just had some curiosities about fear in relationship to memory. Never really got so far with it. It's an idea if you need direction. Got interesting I just never followed it through nor did experiments."

"It is. Thanks, Albert," smiled Jonathan. Yeah, it was an idea. A good one! "Excuse me," he said picking up his phone and answering.

Albert turned in his seat, worried as Jonathan's face fell. The thugs stopped caring about their money too. Jonathan was trying to say something but the person on the other end was interrupting him or something.

"Please!" he snapped finally, "is she okay? What do I need to do? Is she alive!"

**/-^1^-\**

"She doesn't seem to know who she is, she's quite concussed," said the doctor, "but she is stable. We've found no evidence of broken bones but if she has any complaints when we do check we'll send her for an x-ray we're checking for internal bleeding now which might actually be the cause of her confusion but we're nearly certain there isn't an issue. We will need to keep her in overnight though."

"I just saw her half an hour ago... how could... how did this happen?" he gasped, in total disbelief. Why did doctors answer the phone so monotonously? He had honestly thought she'd been killed. She'd been knocked down on her way home by a car which had then taken off.

"She works at Arkham yeah?"

"Yes."

"She wasn't maybe even 5 minutes away from Arkham where this happened."

Just then, Alison got pushed into the room. He ran over desperately but she didn't notice at first. He had to first explain who he was before he was granted the chance to hold her hand without scrutiny. She gasped and turned her head up.

"Alison," he gulped. She raised a brow and smiled at him.

"Thanks for holding my hand."

"Is that permanent!" he cried. He'd still love her anyway and she obviously did trust him otherwise she'd have retracted her own hand.

"No, probably not. We're going to have her rest for about an hour and then see if she remembers more."

"Can I wait with her?"

"Sure," nodded the doctor, guiding them into a room. He leant over the railings as Alison glanced around. "Alison, my name is Dr. Harper. We did an scan to check for bleeding but you're absolutely fine. I want you to just get a little bit of sleep but I'm going to come in and wake you up to check how you're doing okay?"

Alison nodded and laid back, pulling the covers up to her chin. Jonathan smiled, knowing she loved to do this. She turned to him.

"Do I know you?"

"It's Jonathan," he smiled.

"You obviously know me. Sorry I don't know you, I'm not sure what's going on."

"That is absolutely fine, Alison. Just rest and I'll be here when you wake up," he said, unable to stop himself stroking her cheek. She smiled warmly at him.

"You're really sweet."

"Thank you. Rest," he urged, sitting down. He held her hand, feeling her grip slacken after only a few minutes, not even 5.

He himself dozed lightly until the doctor came in after about two hours. He'd come after an hour but he saw Alison sleeping peaceful and nothing was wrong so he left it to come back. He approached the bedside and woke Alison up. She was still quite confused.

In the early hours of the morning she woke up and sat up, glancing at Jonathan and then around at the room with a heavy frown.

"Jonathan," she hissed. He was asleep. "Jonathan! JONATHAN!" she snapped, lobbing a tissue box at him. He jumped up and clutched it, looking at her.

"It's me!" he cried, trying not to feel insulted. He assumed it was some kind of attack.

"What's going on?"

"Do you remember you've been in a road accident?"

"No," she sighed. "My head. What happened?"

"I wasn't with you. You said you wanted to go for a ride and then relax at home and then I got a call telling me you'd been in an accident. You were on your bike. Err, motorbike."

"Is it okay!"

"Police have taken it and you can collect it when you're ready. They were given your ID. Alison, don't think about the bike, think about recovering."

"You don't need to be here, Jon. It's okay if you want to go."

"Of course I want to stay. I lost you in one way and I was nearly terrified I was going to lose you another way just as we repaired things," he whispered, kissing her hand.

"That's really sweet of you."

"You didn't recognise me a few hours ago and you said I was sweet then," he laughed.

"I feel like I've been asleep for centuries."

"Sleeping beauty," laughed Jonathan in a whisper.

The doctor came in and smiled, approaching the bed.

"I'm Dr. Harper. You've had an accident. You were quite confused from concussion but you're absolutely fine now I see. We're going to discharge you in the morning so just get some rest and if there are any more problems just call," he smiled.

"Wait, in the accident, what were my injuries?"

"You got a few bruises, on your legs and arms, you were concussed as stated, you did lose a very small amount of blood, from that wound on your abdomen and your hands are grazed but other than your terrible concussion you're absolutely fine. However, I daresay you might experience whiplash."

"So the pain in my shoulder isn't anything?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, you didn't... say anything. I'm going to get you down to x-ray just to check it isn't broken. Perhaps you weren't aware when you were concussed."

About 45 minutes later she was taken to x-ray and left nearly as quickly as she came. Dr. Harper came in just a few moments after though and perched on the end of the bed.

"Well, your shoulder is actually fine, it might be nerve damage or even just jarring from the crash. Or the break in your wrist and arm is causing that pain. Can you not feel that pain?"

"Slightly. I thought that would be nerve damage."

"You're dealing with it very well," remarked the doctor, showing her the x-ray. Her ulna was snapped clean in two. Jonathan laughed and kissed her hand.

"Typical," he smiled. Alison grinned at him wryly.

"Mr Crane, would you mind stepping outside a minute?" asked Dr. Harper. Jon frowned, but nodded and left even if he didn't want to.

"Am I okay?"

"I sent him out because we've received a call, from your social workers and therapists in Scotland about your disorder and have been advised, as soon as possible, for a medical professional to prescribe you the medication in spite of the fact you've refused to take for four years. Now, I'm going to, if you can guarantee you'll take it."

"If you tell my partner, he won't give me an option. He's a psychologist, like me. It's overbearing, and I forget sometimes. Then I stop. If you want any guarantee then it's by him being informed."

"He doesn't know?"

"How do you explain it?" shrugged Alison.

"Are you telling me to tell him?"

"Yes. If you can. I won't... He's a doctor?" she suggested, raising a brow. Dr. Harper nodded and left. Jonathan came back in.

"I knew it!" he said, pointing at her. She looked upset until he smiled wryly, "I knew it was BPD! Are you going to speak to me now about it?" he asked, squeezing her good arm.

"Nothing to speak about."

"Don't lie to me," he laughed, stroking the palm of her hand. She giggled infectiously and retracted it.

"Stop that," she murmured, pretending to sulk.

"I've got another trick up my sleeve if you don't tell me," he warned. She shook her head, too curious. "Come here," he said, "lean closer."

"Why?" she asked, narrow eyed. He kissed her softly and slipped his tongue into her mouth, running it across the roof of her mouth with the tip. This tickled if you did it to yourself anyway - God only knew how sensitive it was for someone else to do it when you couldn't predict that occurring also.

Clearly it was. She splutter with laughter and pressed her own tongue to the roof of her mouth to get rid of the aftermath sensation.

"And I will keep doing that until you either bite my tongue out of fury or talk," he promised, climbing up onto the bed.

"I don't know what to say."

"Start with 'Jonathan, I promise I will take the medication I need for borderline personality disorder'."

"I can't promise it."

"Yeah, I know the doctor explained. But I can," he smiled, "were you afraid to tell me?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't have been. I wouldn't have acted so impulsively the other day if I'd have known for definite. I played with Bipolar and depersonalisation disorder, but BPD fit. And my hasty respond to your accusation must have really upset you and I am so sorry. I don't want to hurt you and most importantly, I want you to be happy. I know we've not been going out long, but even if we broke up I'm not planning to abandon you so you can put that responsibility on me," he said. She grinned and kissed his cheek, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Didn't know you had the gentility in you."

He scoffed and embraced her tightly. He'd shut his eyes at one point and nodded off for a moment. It was only when Alison called him he came back to awareness.

"Johnny," she cooed, laughing. He blinked and nodded. "Are you going to go home? You need to rest too."

"No. I'll stay overnight with you."

"You, unlike me, do not have a valid reason for not going to work in the morning and as it is now 9pm, you will be nearly mentally finishing your day off."

"I have a valid reason. I love the victim who does have a reason."

"Victim?" she whispered.

"Sorry, didn't mean to ..." he bit his tongue. She was about to tell him that wasn't it.

"No, that's not it and it doesn't bother me. Were there any other people?" she asked, gazing at him. _Told you. _

"No, actually. It was like an unintended hit and run. The driver hit you, stopped, and drove on. No one else was harmed."

"God, I'd hate to have been sat here just selfishly wondering about myself and there might be someone dying!"

"You were the only casualty," he grimaced.

"Jon, you don't have to stay off-"

"Like I'm going in," he scoffed, "please, just accept I'm not. You'll appreciate it in the morning when you can barely move. I'm staying with you. Please?"

"Okay," she said, rolling her eyes.

* * *

><p><em>He does care :')<em>


	32. Sordid

_Two chapters I shall add today. _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^1^-\

"Oh my ... entire body," sighed Alison.

"I know," he whispered, lowering her down onto the sofa. she sat back and smiled.

"Thank you."

"I'll get your painkillers," he said, wandering into the kitchen.

"Have you told you yet that I love you?" she grinned mischievously.

"Erm, only about 4 times now," he called back. He came back in with the medication and water and laughed. "Vicodin. Don't need to steal it this time."

"I actually didn't steal it last time, you did."

"Shh!" he hissed, laughing. The doorbell went. "I'll get it," he said, squeezing her good shoulder.

He pulled the door back and gasped in horror. It was _Ivana_!

"What on Earth are you doing here?"

"I followed you here."

He wanted to puke. She was dressed in black and red lacy lingerie, leaning provocatively against the door. She was caked in make-up, her hair carefully curled and she was in black huge high heels.

"This isn't MY house."

"Are they home?"

"As it so happens, Dr. MacLeod IS home. This is the final straw Ivana - I will do everything in my power to see something done about you and your behaviour, you hear me?" snapped Jonathan. Ivana smirked. She didn't believe it.

"Who is it, Jon?" asked Alison, having her heard his malice. She'd taken the effort to walk to him. That was also probably the Vicodin. Ivana looked terrified. Alison looked more than furious. "What are you doing dressed like that on the porch of our home you disgusting young slut?" she hissed. Jonathan wanted to laugh but knew better.

"Alison," he gasped, handing her the crutches she'd been given and pushing the door aside. He tilted her head up and kissed her softly. "I'm going to call a taxi and get her sent away," he whispered.

"Get her out of here. She's a nasty lying bitch and she needs to learn to have some dignity. And spend more on lingerie," sighed Alison, going to make her way back. She couldn't and had to learn against the wall in the arched doorway to her living room.

"Step off the porch," warned Jonathan, shutting the door. He scooped Alison back up in his arms and sat her on the chair nearest to the door and snatched the phone up, dialling a taxi number. "I need a cab at 19 Willow-Moore Drive straight away. Just one. She'll tell you the destination when she gets in. Preferably a female driver."

"Right away sir," said the guy, plonking the phone down. Jonathan went back to the door and stood out of the porch.

"You stupid girl."

"I thought you said this wasn't your house?"

"It isn't. She said our because we're both here now and she is in a lot of pain after an accident on the road. If you ever come here again; for any reason - she will tell me and I will make her press charges. I'm considering doing so myself."

"Like to see you try," snarled Ivana.

When the taxi came Jonathan slammed the door in her face and watched through the window to be sure she got in. The taxi set off and he turned to Alison who was gazing at him.

"You're not comfortable, are you?"

"Not really. Trying to find comfort with whiplash and a broken arm isn't going to be easy however."

"I know, honey. Do you want to go into bed or are you tired of being laid around?"

"The sofa," she said, pulling herself up to transfer herself over. Jonathan supported her and made things as comfortable as he suspected they could be, getting nods of approval from Alison as and when we needed. He sat beside her, softly playing with her hair and picking the phone back up.

"I'm going to call her tutor," he said, "if you don't mind."

"You are staying, aren't you?"

"...Yes, if you still want."

"I do. Therefore make use of things," she said, raising a brow. He laughed and nodded, dialling the number.

"Hello, I need to speak to someone about one of the work placement students who is at Arkham Asylum. A Professor Adelaide?"

"You're speaking to him. Is this Dr. Crane?"

"Oh, hello..." He'd been expecting a woman, "Yes. I need to speak to you about Ivana Scott. She has been behaving highly inappropriately and her conduct is shocking. And right now she has just turned up on my girlfriends porch claiming to have followed me there under the assumption it is my home. She was ... not wearing a lot, it has to be said."

"Well, have you provoked her in anyway?"

"I have been doing my very best to shun all advances she has made. She took my hand and has been trying to get close to me since she started and frankly I find it rude, irritating and sickening."

"Are you sure it is Ivana?"

"Yes, why?"

"She wouldn't behave in such a way. She's a very committed student. And... and she is very good at the subject. She's an excellent pupil and I am very pleased to have her as my student."

"Yeah. That is a funny thing. I mean, my findings of her comprehension don't add up to your claims. I assume she's ... pretty quiet in class?" asked Jonathan. He was having an obscure, almost Alison worthy, epiphany.

"...Yes."

"But yet perfect grades. Very suspicious. She's not totally dumb but she isn't quite the shining star. _Maybe_, someone is fixing her grades because _they_ gain something from it."

"I don't... I don't understand Dr. Crane."

"You're giving Ms. Scott favourable grades and she in turn offers you a _sordid_ exchange by sleeping with you-"

"That is a very fantastical claim, Dr. Crane. I hope you know what you're suggesting."

"You should have denied it. You tell her... if she comes near me or my partner again, just tell her I am very serious about pressing charges and I will not keep quiet about what I have just discovered."

"Jon?" asked Alison curiously as he put the phone down and sighed.

"That's.. it's _disgusting_," he whispered, "the tutor is having a fling with Ms. Scott. I'll call Albert in the morning. She's not going anywhere near me and if she tries I will ... I'll call the Goddamn Batman."

"He dresses in skin tight Kevlar. I think she'd try hump him." Jonathan choked on his drink and had to gain his breath back before he could speak. Alison flashed him a grin and he eyed her up, disbelieving. "I am taking the situation seriously, Jon. I'm just pointing out you won't gain much of a result."

"I know you're taking it seriously," he smiled, "I just love your cheek. Well, I love you."

"How did you become so sweet?" she asked, "so naturally?"

"I'm not sure I'd really feel anything if it were someone else."

"I love you too," she smiled.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _3 weeks later. Friday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"HOORAY!" cheered everyone, clapping thunderously. Albert was good at making friends and many liked him. But now he was leaving, having finally decided now to retire. He'd gone and bought a cruise yacht and was taking his wife Ellis on a 5 week cruise, to '<em>where ever the hell I feel like<em>'.

Jonathan had got what he didn't honestly expect. He knew he'd never get the ultimate top spot, the one Dr. Penrose and Albie had, but he hadn't anticipated being chief psychologist, and assistant head of research. Yet he had been informed that morning whilst Albert ran around with party poppers, practically dancing.

Albert must have had a fair bit of cash tucked away, he'd just come and booked the hotel venue for the night and had even offered to pay for anyone who wanted to stay. No one had accepted to offer but people were still staying over. It was nice, for Albert, to know that none of them were advantage takers.

Jonathan sat down next to Alison, putting his arm over the back of her seat and slipping his fingers over the stem of the cocktail glass, sliding it away from her. She continued to sip through the straw glancing at him like a disobedient child until he took the straw away.

"We're about to have Christmas all over again," he laughed, "please don't get so drunk you fall over, hurt your arm or break something else."

"Oh, I'm not going to get drunk. I'm going to get adequately tipsy. I don't want that headache again."

"Yeah, me neither."

"But you're still drinking," she warned, teasing the straw through his tightly pursed lips. He rolled his eyes and smiled at Dr. Milligan from across the table who was looking very baffled by the scene.

Jonathan then suddenly choked on the cocktail. Alison quickly removed the straw and grasped him as he bent over, ready to smack him on the back if need be. He squeezed her knee gently to let her know he was fine and caught his breath again.

"I'm sorry," whispered Alison in his ear. He shook his head and clutched her hand tightly.

"It's fine. It just went down wrong that wasn't your fault," he promised, kissing her cheek quickly, "It's an omen; I can't drink now!" he claimed, trying to look innocent.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"Everything aches," complained Jonathan.<p>

"This time, I'm actually fine. You were _hammered_."

"I mean, _everything_. No part of my anatomy doesn't feel like it's had 1000 ping-pong balls thrown at it."

Alison laughed and slipped down over him, kissing his jaw line. He clutched her hips and gently guided her down over him just in case she did hurt him somehow even though she was as light as a feather. She laid against him in awe.

"What the hell have you done to me?" he sighed.

"Me?" she gasped.

"I never ever drank in whole life until you convinced me to drink Christmas and now I actually find it fun. The bits I was coherent for."

"That's called loosening up," she remarked, "it's 7am. We have an hour until breakfast, we can go say bye to Albert before he sets off for his adventure."

"Sounds ideal," nodded Jonathan.

"1000 ping-pong balls?"

"I'd make a better metaphor if I could think straight... I think I was trying to allude to throbbing pain."

"You should have thought about it before you agreed to take on a drinking challenge."

"It seemed like a very good idea at the time," he smirked, unfolding the towel she had wrapped around her and throwing it out from under the covers. "Could have let me get in with you."

"How _crude_!" she laughed.


	33. High As A Kite

/-^1^-\ _Next week. Monday. _/-^1^-\

"Never mind oak. It's all about mahogany," said Jonathan lowly, running his hand over the smooth desk which had sat in the head office for about 60 years now. HE got the office.

"Whatever you say... sir," remarked Alison, raising a brow. She was leant against the end of the desk. He ran his hands over her and pinned her back a little against the desk, which at first she wasn't too sure about but as he kissed her she couldn't help but find the idea attractive. But still irresponsible. "Now it's got to be much harder for me to come tanking in to have a conversation."

"Maybe. But honestly, I think it'll make us appreciate going home a lot more."

"You... think we don't already?"

"I enjoy us never being apart. But sometimes we're very idle at home because we spent all of our time _here _discussing our days and having the laughs."

"So we don't keep home and work separate enough?"

"Exactly."

"Then stop pinning me to your O' so-bossly desk."

"Can't. Sorry. I'm making the rules here."

"So I have to just stay put here?"

"Yeah."

"If I don't?"

"You're probably going to find out."

"Yep," she grinned, slipping down beneath him and prancing behind the desk and grinning manically. He raised a brow and zipped his trousers up. They were still getting silly one ups on each other.

"Nice try."

"It would have been funny in a childish way. Especially given how it would look now you've got this office. People would think you're getting off on being top dog."

"Hopefully, people would know that isn't my kind of thing."

"I don't know. You _still _look like you don't get the concept of making love and could probably still get hit on by prostitutes. Maybe you're needy?"

"Yeah. I still do. How do you change looking chastely though?" he asked. "If I'm needy I can blame you."

"Hmph!"

Alison stalked back around the other side and undid his top button, then his blazer buttons and slightly loosened his tie. She pursed her lips looking deeply thoughtful and then cast her eyes on his hair. She smirked and messed it up quite a bit before straightening it out to make it look less overdone.

"Now, you don't look raggedy but you don't look too prim. But just to add one more thing," she said, holding a finger to his lips, "smile."

"Alison," he whispered, leaning a little closer. She nodded curiously, a little uncertain of his sudden transition. He seemed so calm. "...You're so beautiful. I've... I've never told you that before, have I?"

She looked so shocked he was concerned she might go into a state of catatonia right there and then in his arms. She slowly shook her head, heart warmed by his out-of-the-blue compliment.

"Well, you kind of did on the porch."

"Not THAT intensely. I've just realised how lucky I am. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the romantic side and not enough time looking at you, realising how ... elegant you are. How someone like me should not have a woman like you; you're one of those people who should be so far out of my league and yet ... you end up with me anyway."

"Are you alright?" she asked wearily. She smiled and nodded.

"I'm fine. You just make me feel happy."

She had a good basis for being a little bit thrown off though. He didn't even know what that impulse had come from but for her not to laugh about his uptight appearance, for her to want to be that close to him, and to take comfort in him and had suddenly hit him.

And it was true that he'd been thinking more about the concept of a relationship and what was involved than the fact he was in a relationship with _her. _She had shown him how to love whilst learning to do the same herself at the same time. How could he not just find her ... divine? Why had he never paid attention to that until now? He couldn't answer his own question but it certainly opened his eyes.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Next week. Weekend. Saturday.. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"You ran a red light."<p>

He'd done a little investigation into the accident. Alison suggested he checked to see who was behind the wheel but wouldn't explain why. He did it in his spare time anyway. Alison didn't seem to be able to comprehend this news.

"I can't. It was green when I looked."

"From half way up the road?"

"Well... that's beside the point," she mumbled, "it wasn't red when I looked."

"Do you want to see the footage from before this point?" asked Batman, raising a brow. Alison eyed him suspiciously and nodded. Batman pressed the play button and the scene horrified Alison. She was all over the place on the roads. It was actually dangerous.

"Well... erm... I don't remember any of this... which is interesting..."

**/-^1^-\**

"You're lucky I'm the boss," said Jonathan in disbelief as Alison picked the lock on one of the lockers in the staff room.

"So, Pudding-"

"For the love of God don't call me that!"

"So, Fool... I have a theory as to why I'd be so mad on the roads."

"Brilliant. I _love _your theories!" he said, rolling his eyes.

"I was as high as a kite. I just need to know how," said Alison, rooting around, "bingo!"

"What is it?"

"Dimenhydrinate! Do you know who's locker this is?"

"Ivana!" cried Jonathan.

"It wasn't her who crashed in to me. But you were right, she played _a _part. She knew something would happen. And Dimenhydrinate... is not something I wish to be taking on the road. My only issue it the half-life of a few hours."

"They took your blood."

"... Spiffing!"

* * *

><p><em>Dimenhydrinate is an anti-histamine used for motion sickness and not only does it make you drowzy, if you take too much it also acts as a deliriant! <em>


	34. Disowned

_Some of this might be upsetting/distressing as it involved Alison's childhood and her experiences of childhood. _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following week. Thursday. _/-^1^-\

Jonathan opened his eyes, pleased to see Alison sound asleep facing him. He softly stroked her cheek and smiled at her when she opened her eyes.

"Happy birthday," she smiled.

"I didn't mean to wake you. You just looked beautiful and I've apparently lost my self-control and needed to touch," he grinned.

"I was stirring anyway. Besides, I think if you wanted to jump up and down on the end of the bed cheering you could," she shrugged, "wait, awh!"

"What?"

"What you said. 'You just looked beautiful'. Thanks," she laughed. He smiled, charmingly, and leant down and kissed her so tenderly. Waking up in the morning with him besides her and to get that loving treatment was such a buzz.

Two minutes later though, everything was going down.

"JON! JON! JON HELP ME! JON!" she screamed, running around wildly, "JON!" she pleaded, running up to him.

"WHAT!" he panicked, clutching her wrists.

"THERE IS A BUTTERFLY IN THE KITCHEN! JON! GET IT! KILL IT! GET IT!" she begged, checking around wildly. He left her and walked in to find the common butterfly just sat in the corner of the top of the kitchen. He swatted it out and locked the window behind it.

When he went back into the room, Alison was cowering on the bed, checking all the ceilings and every crevice she could find. He approached and gently grasped her waist, kissing her cheek.

"It's okay," he assured her, "It's gone. It's out. There isn't any in here."

"What if it comes back?"

"It won't kill you! I locked the window anyway."

He had been terrified as she screamed, and for once it didn't even slightly thrill him to see Alison in that much distress. She was shaking so violently and looked so distraught that he suddenly felt very queasy. He sighed for her and clutched her tightly to him until she stopped and shut her eyes, drifting off with the gentleness of his tender caressing.

"Alison," he cooed, laughing as she opened her wide eyes and gazed at him. She clutched him and gave him a pleading look. He died over it, it was adorable. "Shall we get ready? Promise to keep you safe."

"Okay," she whispered, smiling gratuitously at him.

**/-^1^-\**

Alison didn't look so happy as she listened to the person on the other end of the line down her mobile.

"Mr Greer, it is only you with my number, isn't it?"

"_Yes. Listen, it's on-_"

"No, I heard. 26th."

"_Can you make it?_"

"I'll try," she said lowly.

"_Maybe you and your mum can work things out._"

"HA! I don't think so," snorted Alison, "I have work, Mr Greer. Err... thanks, for telling me," she whispered, ending the call and placing the phone on the table. Jonathan knew something was up.

"What's the matter?"

"I need the loo," she said, standing up and walking off. She locked the door and sat down on the floor, crying her eyes out.

"A... Alison, I can hear you. Tell me what's wrong."

"Why would you listen in, that's such an invasion of privacy?" she wailed, burying her head in her hands. She did feel violated suddenly. No, attacked. Jonathan wasn't going to just stand there though. He went and got a screwdriver from the kitchen draw and twisted it around in the lock to open it and gently pushed against the door, opening it up when Alison moved.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't want you sat in here in tears when you can speak to me," he said, grimacing. He sat beside her and stroked her leg almost mindlessly, gazing at her until she looked up at him.

"My brother is dead. He died yesterday morning of a drug overdose. He was the only person left in my family, for whom I had any respect."

"When is his funeral?" asked Jonathan, squeezing her hand and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"26th. A week today."

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.

"I don't even know if I'm going myself, however if I do it's... no, it's okay."

"Why might you not attend?"

"I just don't really... get along with my family. I've been legally disowned for... issues."

"Do you mind if I ask how?"

"Erm..."

"You don't have to tell me, Alison."

"...I want to, I think. Just not in a rush and we set off for work in 50 minutes."

"In your own time," he whispered, kissing her forehead, "but if you need moral support you have me on your side."

**/-^1^-\**

Alison briefly went over her life, how her brother would help her sometimes whilst she was doing house labour, tidying, cooking, cleaning and acting pretty much like a young adult. If her brother was caught though, she was punished. Her mother would lock her out in the garden and no one knew, not even Alison's favourite person in the world, her dad. He worked nights, he was clueless.

When her Dad had died in a car accident her mother went even further off the rails and found new ways to punish Alison such as dousing her bedding and pyjama's in water on a night time. Alison's own personal behaviour got worse, she was diagnosed with BPD at 19 years of age when she sought some help after encouragement from her brother.

Things would get worse still, as the last attack from her mum when she was 21 was the most horrific. Her mother had pushed her down the stairs in a violent outburst, attempted to strangle her, beat her repeatedly with a broken table leg and then started attacking her with her fists. It had taken Alison a while to recover and she'd been in hospital, in intensive care, for quite a few weeks. It was then she came to Gotham.

Jonathan had listened so well. An overbearing need to protect her had washed over him. It was hard not to show he felt sorry, because he did. He needed Alison to keep brave until she finished though and if he started, she'd burst into tears. She was so fragile right now, and depressed. His eyes were welling a little as he clutched her in his arms.

"You must have been terrified of what I did..."

"I wanted you to protect me when I met you. You did... I felt it was ripped away at first but then I just felt safe with you again."

"You are safe with me. I won't let anyone hurt you, you can trust me. I promise I will keep you as far from harm as one can possibly get. And it still stands if you need my support there, you have it."

"She'll be there. Agnes. I'm too scared."

"Your brother would understand if you didn't attend, wouldn't he? Were he still alive?"

"Yes. He'd probably advise me against it or weigh things up for me but I have to. He's the only one who loved me after Dad died. The only one who didn't disown me."

"Alison, I know I don't know anyone but you should let me come with you so I can keep you safe? So you can go and not have to worry. I can hide you, I can hold you and should anything happen, I can protect you."

"Please will you?" she asked, tears in her eyes. He nodded, feeling feeble himself.

"Of course I will, Alison. I love you regardless of anything."

"I love you too," she whispered. "I've ruined your-"

"Shh," he frowned, shaking his head, "you haven't. Hell, no way you have. Promise you. I'd much rather you were okay. Ally, get some rest. I'll carry you up," he offered, stroking gently through her hair as he guided her head down into his lap. Too exhausted to disobey or disagree, she complied almost by force, falling into heavy but uneasy sleep in his arms. I love you. You're my sweetheart, Alison. You're mine."


	35. Don't Leave Me

_I do hope not but this is taking on some darker feelings and some of this content could upset some as it involves feelings/thoughts of suicide._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Next week. Friday. James Andrew MacLeod's Funeral._ /-^1^-\

"Hello Mr. Greer," smiled Alison, shaking his hand. He was possibly the most dumb support worker in the world.

Jonathan didn't like him instantly. Not because he didn't seem nice, because he seemed like everything was too happy. He was greying, maybe in his late 50's, with dark brown eyes and dressed like a farmer. Mr Greer glanced at Jonathan.

"This is my partner, Dr. Jonathan Crane."

"Nice to meet you, son. Are you attending with Alison-Mae?"

"Alison and May? Oh, yes," nodded Jonathan, "if I can."

"Of course," nodded Mr Greer, walking off.

"Alison-Mae MacLeod?" smirked Jonathan, "Alison-Mae Phyllis MacLeod?"

"I hate it," she grumbled.

"I like it. Well, I like Alison-Mae," whispered Jonathan, wrapping his arms around her waist. Alison smiled coyly. If he liked it, she might learn to not mind it so much.

It was actually pissing it down in Aberdeen. He was just shocked. Alison had said so but he thought it was an exaggeration. She also warned him it might be cold; he thought that was blown-up too but it wasn't. The weather almost hinted at the feeling of the day.

They got into a car and were taken to the church. That too felt so dark and grim. They were at the back, unable to go to the front as Agnes might have been there. Alison was trying to see if her sister Patricia was though. She wasn't tall enough but she didn't have time to think about it.

The coffin with James in was brought in and Alison instantly burst into tears, hiding against Jonathan. He cradled his sobbing mess of a girlfriend with as much support as he could, which unbeknown to him was a lot.

"I am aware James's sister Alison-Mae is with us, would she like to say a word?" asked the priest mid-way through the ceremony. Her stomach churned. There were several gasps. "Alison-Mae?"

"No," said Alison, shaking her head. The priest nodded and carried on. Alison felt utterly dead inside. Agnes knew she was here now. She would have to leave as soon as possible.

And of course, this wasn't going to happen. Agnes approached at the end and struck Alison across the cheek.

"Why haven't you come home before now?" she snapped, having to be held back. Jonathan was too shocked at first. He thought it was Alison holding Agnes back but it wasn't because she was clutching him. Patricia was her _twin_! He put his arm around Alison but Agnes wrenched free.

Jonathan stood before her, pushing her away and earning discontent looks from Patricia and Agnes.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Leave," he glowered, protecting Alison until they had finally gone.

Alison was violently shaking with fear behind him, clutching the material of his jacket on the back. He moved his hands behind him, clutching her hips. He turned around to her and tilted her chin up. She grasped his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Don't leave me," she begged.

"I wouldn't!"

"No, I mean ever," she cried, getting close to him. His heart sank somewhat. He kissed her head lightly.

"I won't," he promised.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _1 week later. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan was terrified currently. Alison had completely taken a turn for the worse. When they came back after the funeral she went missing for 2 days with hardly any communication, only to arrive back if nothing had happened. It had caused a massive argument between them.<p>

She came in, and Lola barked and bounded up to her and Jonathan got up from the floor to see who it was, gobsmacked. She shrugged it off like it was a casual event but he was livid and relieved and didn't know how to handle the two mixed together and had shouted at her to vent both of them.

She locked herself under the stairs for an hour and when she finally came out yelled at him to get out of 'her' home. She never said 'her' home. As reluctant as he was, it was probably more helpful for them both if he did so did as he was asked, but kept calling her.

He then went over the next day, trying to convince her to talk and to take her medication which she abruptly stopped. She asked him yet again to get out and when he looked for his key he couldn't find it. Alison had taken it. In panic, he would knock every day and wait for her to tell him to go away before he would be at ease. It was only today he was surprised to find the key was under the pot outside. He did always check.

He unlocked the door and panicked, finding Alison in the living room gazing emptily at the lifeless fire with a knife in her hands and blood on her. He only knew she was alive because she looked at him. She raised the knife.

"ALISON!" he cried, snatching it from her and throwing it aside. She stretched to get it but he forced himself down on her and kept grasp until she was pacified.

She was still breathing heavy and was looking pretty panic stricken but she wasn't trying to get the knife anymore. In a way, she was amazed Jonathan would even touch her, the state she was in. More touchingly, he leant down and kissed her gently, even though she was filthy, and grubby and probably smelled like a dumping ground.

"Stop this, Alison. You do not want to die. You need help."

"You think I'm insane?" she questioned. He held her hands.

"I don't think you're insane. I think you need help. You need direction and comfort and you can get that, I promise. Stay here, cutie," he smiled warmly. Once upon a time he'd have found it difficult to offer someone help, let alone love them or call them a pet name. She gazed at him in awe as he left to go into the kitchen, taking the knife with him.

He fed Lola who looked so grateful, and checked the cupboards. There was stuff in, luckily. He got a glass of water and when he went back to Alison practically forced her to drink it. She did _try _to resist.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he whispered gently.

**/-^1^-\**

Alison looked in absolute bliss as Jonathan ran his fingers through her light brown/copper hair and played with it carefully. He had no idea what to do but he'd promised it to her and was going to try his damn best.

"Right, I swear I'm going to make you love this," he said, lathering the shampoo in his hands and deeply rubbing it into her hair and head. She looked like a kitten getting behind its ears scratched. He smiled with sheer relief that it was actually working. He felt like it was a stupid idea but apparently not.

He worked the water over her hair as he rinsed the shampoo away and squeezed the tips of her hair to most of the way to the top, as close as he dared to squeeze, to drain the water. With a quick clearing of the sink, he refilled and handed her a sponge.

"I'm just going to do something. Don't do anything stupid, will you?"

"No," she smiled faintly.

"I'll be two minutes," he promised, kissing her cheek and leaving, slipping up the larger plug as he went so she couldn't fill he bath. He didn't know she'd try to harm herself but he didn't want the risk to be there. She confessed she'd just been playing with the knife but hadn't seriously wanted to do any harm. The blood was from her fingertip.

He went downstairs and pulled a towel out of the cupboard in the utility room and shoved it into the dryer so it'd be warm and then picked up the knife, washing it clean. He got all the other knives or anything sharp and put it into the cupboard on the end with the lock, all in a bag and locked the padlock, pocketing the key. He was trying not to be het up about the matter.

The dryer stopped and he pulled out the towel, hugging it tightly as he walked upstairs and into the bathroom just so that it'd stay warm.

Alison was stood, gazing in the mirror. She looked very distracted. He had no idea she was spaced out until he approached, wrapping the towel around her damp body and she gasped in response and glanced at him.

"Sorry," he whispered, stroking her cheek softly. He kissed her cheek and cuddled her to keep her even more warm than she already was, guiding her into the bedroom. He would willingly take care of everything for her just to set her straight. He couldn't bear to lose Alison.

"If I got you what you needed, if I got you help and I was with you - would you take it?" he asked, worked up. He placed the anti-depressants onto the table with a glass of water. "The way you're going, you're going to destroy yourself."

"Maybe that's the intention," she whispered.

"No!" he begged, standing up a little, "no, no, no, no, no! Please, Alison," he whimpered. "You have everything to live for. You have EVERYTHING. I am willing to listen to you if you are in despair and I just want you to start walking all over me in that way. I will do anything for you, I'm being more serious this time than ever before - whatever you want I will give to you but please don't do this to yourself."

"You don't have to care for me if I don't care for myself," she whispered. Jonathan sternly shook his head.

"No. No, that is all the more reason for me to care but I'm begging you to let me help. You're breaking my heart," he said, tears down his face. He was literally on his knees, his hands clasped around hers and his head resting on her. He had never ever cried before. This time he was more desperate than ever. "Alison," he sighed, laying down in her lap, "Alison I love you. Please stop. Let me help you through. You don't have to take your medication but please don't ever forget you mean the world to me."

She brushed her fingers down his tear stained cheeks and glanced into his palm, picking up the tablet and swallowing them down. They wouldn't help, but he wasn't going to be content and right now she couldn't take that. He smiled with relief and kissed the backs of her hands. It warmed her heart to see him look that way.

"You called me cutie," she remarked. He laughed and shook his head.

"It was a spur of the moment comment. But it's true," he smiled, cupping her cheek. _She's about to say she likes it._

"I wasn't offended or disgusted. I liked it. Really sweet, coming from a guy like you."

"I try," he declared, "just like I'm trying to keep you where you need to be. With us, in the world. With me. Because, Alison - you are amazing. You're brilliant and you haven't yet found the total happiness you deserve. So don't dare think about giving up before you have found that."

"Are you telling me I can make the glass half full?"

"Yes," he smiled, standing up over her and tilting her chin up.

"What about yours?"

"If yours is, mine will be."


	36. Aim to Scare

_This has crude language in it, from Alison... who is rather foul mouthed actually. So, you have been warned._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Next week. Wednesday. _/-^1^-\

Apparently the idea of him being happy if she was had inspired her greatly to pick herself up and despite what she had said the antidepressants worked. She just wasn't admitting it.

She hummed as she sat at the desk with the brand new computer she had just bought and was browsing the internet, specifically social networking sites. Jonathan put down a plate of pancakes on the desk and stole one.

"Would you say she looks very similar?" asked Alison, pointing at the screen.

"To you? Because she is your twin sister? Or did you take a picture on the webcam and didn't realise?"

"To me?"

"Yes."

"How do I find out where she lives?"

"It says Georgia?" he pointed out. She raised a brow and smirked, giving off a little awkward laugh. "What is that?"

"What's what?"

"That laugh?"

"Just strange to see her. I'm just curious. I might take the computer... wait, there are directories on the internet, aren't there?"

"That isn't it or all you wanted to know. But, yes. There are. You looking to meet up with her? Because if so I used to live in Georgia."

"...Maybe," nodded Alison.

Jonathan clutched her hands and kissed her head gently, sliding his hands down her wrists and crossing her arms over her chest. He planted a gently line of kisses over her neck and up to her cheek. She surprisingly backed away and turned her head up to him, glaring. She didn't look happy.

"Fuck off and wank your urges away."

"Alison!"

"Leave me alone."

"I didn't... want anything. I just love you. But if that is how you're going to be," he said, shrugging his shoulders. He stood up and walked off.

Alison jumped a minute later when the door went. She ran to the bedroom and glanced out of the window, gazing out as Jonathan drove off. How could he be offended after he'd offended her? It seemed very petty.

She tried calling him many times but he just didn't answer. He was giving her the cold shoulder! If he turned around and declared they were splitting up again she'd just kick him out, she could survive without him. HELL - maybe she could survive BETTER! He drove her up the wall sometimes. And apparently, he really liked to get it on. Which didn't suit her.

_Don't kid yourself. _No, she shouldn't kid herself. She needed him; he'd got her through her hardest times yet... nearly. No. He had. She needed him badly. Really badly.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Alison went to knock on the door but retracted her hand for the third time. Jonathan stood up and pulled the door back anyway, having seen feet stood there too close not to be very near. And they were heels. A pair Alison normally wore.<p>

She jumped and blinked rapidly at him, trying to keep her mouth tightly shut by pursing her lips. He stood back and tilted his head into the office. She twisted her hands and nodded, wandering in and shutting the door behind her.

She looked very glum. So did he. In fact, he looked meek. Overshadowed by his guilt underneath a collected demeanor.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't anything you did. I just... felt like you wanted something and when I thought about it, you just wanted a kiss and cuddle. I get why you'd be pissed. I didn't mean to react so harshly."

"Now you're pissed. Because I didn't answer, which I do regret of course. But I have to stop being so soft and seeing everything through rose tinted spectacles."

"By which you mean?"

"Everything you do to me, the way you react to things badly sometimes and not others, and your hot and cold attitude... I know that you're prone to it. But I always feel sorry and I don't know why."

"I don't ask you to, you don't have to. That isn't a reprimand."

"I know."

"You're not leaving me are you?"

"No," Jonathan smiled, "not unless you want me to or you want to. But... if that_ was _what you were after you wouldn't come by, or spend 7 minutes trying to knock on my door."

"7?"

"I timed you," he chuckled, picking up his briefcase, "how many times did you try?"

"3. I'm sorry, Jon."

"Let's ... forget about it. I was very insulted... but we don't need to think about it," he stated, tilting her chin up, "you're beautiful."

"Don't get soppy-"

"I'm not getting soppy. In high school I had a crush, as you do when you're teenage and subconsciously going through changes. I can't believe I did though. I look at you, every day and I just ... you're right I'm getting soppy," he laughed, "but I just find myself in awe. I'm a lucky guy. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I love you," he smiled, tilting his head and gently kissing her. "Let's go home."

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following Week. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"We're going to have to stop at some point," whispered Jonathan, angering himself. He hadn't wanted to stop their fun but there were pressing matters at hand. She just smiled at him and shook her head, meeting his lips again. <em>Just to talk. <em>God, if they stopped their antics he might cry.

"No we don't. Too much fun," she laughed, unaware he might be about to ruin the mood. She gulped and took a deep breath.

"No, we are going to have to. I need to know why you have a gun in your office."

"I don't," she lied, hoping she could play dumb and think about her work office. He seemed to read her mind.

"Not your work office, I'd have marched you out myself. Why do you have it here. why do you have a gun?"

"It's an air soft gun; it's to invoke terror."

"In who?"

"You think I'd do it to you?"

"I'm not scared, otherwise I wouldn't ask."

"Patricia. She turned her back on me; when I adored her and I would help her. Hell, I washed and ironed the clothes on her back, went without shoes for her and made her meals. She had no sympathy for me. I need some childish bitter revenge for that. I know it's pathetic-"

"It's not. I don't understand fully, but I get your gist." _I understand the feeling of revenge. _

"You're only approving it because I've told you that it's her. If I said... I'm going to terrify Marie, you'd ask me why and try talk me out of it because... then I'd just be doing it for the thrill of being in control and seeing others cower before me to seek power, or the illusion of. Which would make me more unstable."

"You're not unstable," he whispered, "but you're not going to do it."

"I am. You don't know how I'm going to terrify her."


	37. Visiting Georgia

_This isn't as crude/violent as the past few chapters have been because Alison is starting to get her control on things again. But it does still contain some aggression. _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Georgia. Same week. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

Alison knocked on the door and turned around when it was opened. She was pleased to see it was Patricia and sickened at the same time. Patricia glared in shock and horror. Alison held the airsoft gun up.

"Alison," she gulped, "what are you doing?"

"Get inside and shut up."

**/-^1^-\  
><strong>

"Guessing something brought you out to Georgia. You didn't leave for New York, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Patricia, eying the gun. "I won't call the police. Just put the gun down."

"I can't do that. Sometimes, it's not so easy to shake off a threat that hangs over your head. Or at it, in _this_ case."

"Alison, you can't do this to me."

"I can. And I am. I'm carrying 20 years of regret that I can call to my mind on my back. That is as early as it started at. That's so unfair. I'm still bitter, naturally. Still mad I never got the chance to be my own person. I'm so stripped of any meaning. And you turned your back when you had the opportunity to extend your hand to me. We should have been so close. You threw it out because you were afraid but you weren't nearly as afraid as I was! I never knew, if I was coming or going. Why did you turn a blind eye?"

"I didn't mean to. I saw what she did. I didn't want to be in that position to-"

"James helped me."

"James is dead."

"I know. And so is Dad, never gonna bring him back, I know. Boo-hoo... don't deflect what I asked. You didn't want to help either."

"Would you?"

"Yes! I'm a psychologist. I'm helping the police with criminal profiling because I care. And I'm TRYING to help."

"This is an offence-"

"The brutality I have experienced is also an offence and nobody came to my rescue! And you're in that bunch of people who knew and did nothing; just passively stood by!"

"And I'm sorry Alison-"

"No!" she screamed, "you are not! IF you were sorry, you'd have done something about it when you could! Instead, you let me fall into troublesome habits! You didn't care. You waltzed off to live your fancy life here and didn't spare a second to think about me!"

"I heard about Mum's attack on you, we never saw you again. Mum said you were gone. I was led to believe you were dead!"

"I don't believe you. You know, after all the hell I've suffered..." said Alison slowly, "why not turn the gun on myself?" she asked, pointing it at her head. Patricia looked panic-stricken. "I should, shouldn't I? Mum hates me, sister doesn't care, brother's dead, Dad's dead. I mean, soon you might even be dead-"

"Please don't do it."

"Agnes will certainly be going soon. I should follow the trend!"

"ALISON! DON'T!" pleaded Patricia, "I'm sorry, okay. I didn't mean to let you get hurt, I didn't mean to sit by and watch you suffer I was just way too afraid to do anything about it but watching you destroy yourself would hurt me more. I love you, Ally. I never meant to abandon you-"

"You don't love me! How dare you!" snapped Alison, turning the gun to Patricia. Patricia held her hands out pleadingly and clasped them together in a prayer motion. Alison felt sickened.

"You don't have to do this Alison; you'd be throwing away your life you're building. You've made your point."

"You're going to make sure I hold on to my career as well."

"How?"

"You're not going to say a word. To anyone."

"I promise."

"Are you married, Patty? Got kids?"

"No. I was married. We divorced. I don't want kids..."

"Do you have much to live for?" asked Alison, cocking the gun. Patricia got down onto her knees.

"Oh God, please!" she whispered. Alison grabbed her hair and yanked her head up, gripping tightly. Patricia's whole face contorted as she let out a yell.

"How can you pray to a God after what you have witnessed. If you believed in it so much you should have been benevolent and helped me!"

"It was a figure of speech. A plead! I don't want to die!" wailed Patricia, tears down her face, make up running (and her nose) as Alison held the gun in front of her face.

"No, of course you don't. I'm going to haunt you though. For the rest of your life. And it'll be much more painful if you have to remember every day how you turned your back on me. I'd rather you suffered that psychological torment, just like I did," said Alison, firing the gun at the wall. Patricia screamed only to discover it wasn't a real gun.

Her sister was a psychopath.

**/-^1^-\**

Jonathan grasped the gates, ready to pull them back but stopped. He hadn't stepped in the house for many years.

"It still belongs to the family, though no one lives here. I'm not really sure why," he said, "Alison, I don't mean to be so anal, but I like everything the way it is in this house, and I don't want anything to be disturbed as there are particular memories within this house of mine that I am not ready to lay down."

"You're telling me not to touch anything," she laughed, nodding. He glanced at her, feeling honestly bad he wasn't prepared to let her of all people have a poke around. But he just couldn't.

"Exactly," he grimaced, pulling the catch up. "There are only a few rooms that are truly out of bounds however," he said. _Because there is research is in them.. _

"The lands are very big. Is this by fortune or by inheritance?"

"Inheritance. We were not a rich family, nor really a wealthy one. We were, in fact, quite poor. We put together what we could for our meals and rationed ourselves. And I was the one who laboured in these fields. It was only my Granny and I out here. I can only guess there was some disagreement between her and the rest. How I ended up in the middle, I don't know. But she never spoke kindly of the rest of the family," he said, gazing through the bars of the gate a moment longer.

So many times, he had taken back routes and alleys to make his journey home from school longer but also risk free. Never wanting to venture through these gates, only to receive one more day of punishment he never knew how he earned. Did he earn it, really?

"Sounds like you have demons of your own," she whispered. He grasped her wrist, nearly furious for a moment. _**Stop! **__It's Alison!_He pulled her close instead and nodded.

"But it's no worry," he said.

"I told you my story. I'm not saying you have to tell me yours, but where better to lay your trust," she smiled.

"I trust you unlimitedly," he said warmly, "I just don't feel it needs discussion but I won't hide it, obviously."

He pushed the gates open and ventured down the path, glancing at the window on the far right. His Granny used to watch him, and he knew it. She made sure he wasn't up to anything from the distance she could see too. He was smarter than that. But he was never up to anything. Somehow, the memory of it projected there still and made him cautious. His stomach knotted and writhed but he had hold of Alison's hand.

"Is that a chapel there?" asked Alison.

"Yes. And also an aviary."

"... Aviary?" she questioned, looking pale... paler.

"There's no birds in there or anything of that type. But we don't have to go in if you don't wish," he promised. Alison was afraid of anything with wings, just _particularly _terrified butterflies. She disliked birds, bats, bees, flying squirrels, flies, wasps, dragonflies and the like. She shuffled closer to him, clinging onto his arm.

When they reached the front doors, he pushed them open and wandered in, linking arms with her. He quickly showed her around the bottom floor, explaining that if any room was used, it was the downstairs bathroom. Everything else was preserved.

Then they went upstairs and he immediately showed her the library.

"I too, was banned from the library. Except, I had no granting ever to go inside," he explained.

"Did it ever make you want to go in more?"

"All the time. And I paid the price."

"Paid the price?"

"My mother gave me up, my grandmother didn't care and my great-granny was apparently a sadist. With the first two women fleeing, it seemed... I was the only one left for her to take it out on."

"Jon, I understand... I've been there..."

"Oh, you have. But she wasn't nearly as bad as what your mother was. I had to walk on eggshells, and her favourite weapon of all was fear... but we all know what a captivating emotion fear is.

"You got it so much worse. Don't tell me I'm wrong just because I wasn't there. You knew she didn't love you, she hurt you physically and mentally, she inflicted fear upon you and it came to force how you are now.

"All the time, I find myself wishing I could take your anger, pain and terror away. Every time I see anything in your eyes that I know upsets you. I just want to change all the bad things that have happened to you but doing something like that might change everything about you... and I love you as you are, you do know that?"

She nodded, not verbally answering his question. She didn't want to. Her lips were parted to kiss him, which she did as he cupped her cheek and shut his eyes, getting... _so close..._

"How do you manage it?" he asked, "I somehow can't, it's seeded into my mind and influenced everything about me." **Everything. **She frowned and shook her head.

"I don't know, I'm not managing. I'm a stroppy wailing mess of a woman-"

"No you're not," he grinned as he protested. "You're so strong. It took 2 murder attempts, a break-in, harassment, an assault and a death to finally cause you to have a moment of depression and even then, not good enough for misery to win because you're overcoming it! So, you're angry, you cry... don't you think you earned the right to?"

"Who made you so charming?" she laughed. He lightly pecked her cheek and took her hand.

"My room," he smirked, "oh, how fun that would be out of context..."

It sure made Alison grin. He guided her upstairs and went to his room which was all the way on the third floor of the manor. For a child, it was quite a walk and the stairs seemed so big. He did wonder how he'd done it, since he had spent most of his day labouring and was exhausted by the end.

His bedroom had actually been an isolated and serene space for him to go. Sure, he spent most of his nights sat at the end of his bed and gazing out of the window, feeling so hopeless. But it got him alone.

Maybe he was stronger than he thought he was. He had the will to continue life this far, he'd been educationally successful, he'd got a very successful career as a result... and now he had Alison.

He had honestly questioned his sanity however. Maybe Alison wasn't real, he'd thought, and she was just pretend. A figment of his imagination he had made to create the perfect life on the exterior, whilst keeping the madness beneath at bay. But if she weren't real, would so many people respond to her so normally, most of all Batman? The Batman would have Jonathan locked up if he suspected Jonathan was mad. He was fine.

"Awwh," grinned Alison at a toy rocking horse. "This room is pristine..."

"I try keep it that way. As it were when I was younger. But I like to keep everything the same," he said, taking the rocking horse down and placing it into her hands. She felt so honoured.

"This looks very old."

"It is. A lot of my ... all of my toys were hand-me-downs. Some of them are so old they're about to turn into dust. They're all up there," he said, pointing up. He wandered over to the window and glanced out a little, chuckling to himself. "There is a bit of the ledge missing. I tried to climb out one night; and it broke off. I quickly scrambled back in not wishing to take my chances. I dared to hope that Granny didn't hear, but she did. She came up to my room and it was like she knew. She wasn't happy."

"What did she do?"

"Punished me. With solitary confinement I guess."

"Solitary confinement?"

"Yeah, the evening all alone," he grimaced.

"Not anymore," she pointed out.

"I know," he grinned, taking her hand and pulling her up close. "I never imagined kissing a girl in my bedroom," he remarked, sealing his lips to hers. "I also never imagined being happy. Who knew?"


	38. Jonathan

_Erm, don't think I posted yesterday and if I did forget, sorry. I think I spent the whole day very spaced out to be honest because I don't remember any of it._

_This chapter does have sexual connotations and vulgar language so ye hath been warned. _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following Week. Monday. Jonathan's Perspective. _/-^1^-\

Alison talks a lot in her sleep. I'm not always awake to hear it but unfortunately it is just nonsense and not utterances from her subconscious - something that interests me deeply, very much so in my beautiful girlfriend.

"Add turnips and boil," she mutters. I can't suspend the chuckle that comes out. _What IS she dreaming about? Sheep, then lolly pops, then buttons... now turnips. _

_**You've done well. To keep her. To sustain your relationship. Even with the downfalls. I think I'm proud. **__So am I. _That's the most sane thing I've felt myself aware of from the darker side of who I am. I do love her. _**I know **_he sighs in my mind.I_ really love her and I would be quite ... very happy to spend the rest of my life with her._

She had me on the bay. She looked so hopeless, but yet she deflected me so well from the real problem, the pain her hand from the wound. And she didn't seem to notice that. I lean over and grip her wrist, sliding further down the bed and planting a kiss on her lips. She briefly stirs.

"Wake up, madam," I warn, "it's 7."

I think she's thankful for me being here. She used to have to ride a bike to work and used to set off at 7am. I provide a lift in a car since she had hers taken. It's nice not to see dark circles under her eyes.

_**I think she likes pain... **__What?_ _**She didn't want you to do anything about her hand, she didn't go to the hospital with her arm or after her falls, she hardly noticed a problem with her broken arm. She even attempted walking and maybe plotted murder when Ivana the Slut knocked on the door. She likes to feel pain.**_

_I can't get time away to attend that. __**You don't want time away. She's changed you. Please stop deflecting. **__Impossible. She wouldn't. Would she? Or would she? Physical pain. __**Why don't you find out? **__I'm not hurting her! I will never hurt her. __**No? Okay, see how excited she gets if you seem threatening? **__Hmm... maybe. But what do I do if she does? What can you do with knowledge like that? __**Have very kinky sex. **_For once in my life I laugh at such a crude remark. If it weren't Alison being regarded, I might not find it funny. She'd LOVE kinky sex.

There is a reason she dislikes herself being the dominant sexual partner. She knows, afterwards that it'll be me she curls up to and lays beside, holding whilst she lives a few more seconds of physical and mental bliss that I have been the creator of. She knows she's safe and protected and that any sea can be calmed. If SHE were dominant, she wouldn't feel the same at all somehow. Less guarded.

And I love that feeling. Knowing I provide the mental safety and the physical if need be. It makes me feel powerful but it also enhances my love for her, knowing she needs me and I cannot leave her. And she can't leave me because without her I am miserable. I suffer somehow, in the depths of my own madness. She's completely changed me into someone I didn't know I could be. What a wonderful thing that is.

_**She can't change me. **__No, but she doesn't know. She'd try if she did and I think she'd win. Don't lie; she's super hot. That alone could win __you__ over._ _**Her curves are a fine thing, as well as her face. Oh, her bum... she has a very pert ass. And her tummy, flat as a board and so easy to roam over... okay yeah. But once I'd stop being turned on? **__There's her personality. Her mentality. The constant flick between coping and devastated. And there is almost an obligation to feel sympathy towards her_ _**because so many people turned away. **_

_**I get it. **__I know_. She should wake up but she's too cute when she sleeps.

"Ally," I call, straddling over her _fine _curves. _**Oh God, don't. Wow. **_She presses her hands to my torso and slips one finger down the top of my boxers. Instantly she has me. She opens her eyes, the blue depths drowning me in awe.

"Jon?" she replies quirkily. Who else would it be?

"It's 10 past 7," I say, laying down with her, our skin coming to some sort of fuse with the closeness. I can't resist it any longer, I have to do something to her. I seal my lips just between where her neck and shoulder meet and caress her soft skin. It doesn't take long for me to make my mark. She titters lightly under me because it tickles her... ever so lightly. Her skin is very sensitive.

_**Listen to yourself... you're totally doo-lally! She's just a woman- **__She's a goddamn perfect woman. How did I manage it!_ _**Certainly not by charm. If she only knew what you were thinking... dirty- **__Shut up. ... I have breasts to be cupping, not listening to you please? __**Ooh-err. **_

I slide my hands under her nightgown, pleasing her with my personally daring act. She knows I'm not as confident as I'd like to be but occasionally resistance stops working and I snap. She giggles as my hands roam under, tracing eerie lines over her skin and bringing blood rushing to the surface, making her whole body a gentle blush colour. Her cheeks flare, and are the only places to flare on her face. It looks adorable. So... cute.

"Is this wise before work?" she asks me. No, it isn't. I know she's only being rational about things but she could have said that before I liked the view. She also started it... slightly. Then I have an idea! It works out if she agrees.

"Nope. But... maybe when we arrive at work ... and we get a moment alone?"

"Are you being serious?" she smirks.

"Deadly," I whisper, "I was just getting you started so you'll get out of bed for once. As much as I know you love it."

I tittered lightly on my way out as a cushion hit me in the back. I chose not to retaliate. She always wants me to and the same arrogantly smirk graces her when I do which is so far every single time. But not this time. I hear her get up and grunt, pulling her clothes off their hangers to get ready.

I set up a quick breakfast for us both, making tea to go with it. I never used to like tea so much, but Alison made me a cup and it was amazing, I wish I made tea like she did.

She staggers down, dropping her heels on the floor with no grace what so ever. She's too small to reach her feet and too clumsy to lift one foot for longer than a second. Instead, she sits. I bring our small breakfast in and kneel in front of her, pushing a heel on for her, smirking playfully.

"You could kill a man with these," I state. She lets a smirk briefly play on her lips before changing her expression to a stone cold gaze.

"Why do you think I wear them?" she asks coldly. I do nearly shiver. _**That's powerful... **__tell me about it. _I grin involuntarily, brushing my hand up her leg and pushing down lightly as I get up onto my feet, giving her a gentle kiss along the way. She reaches out to me limply, as if she's trying to get me back but knows boxer shorts just aren't adequate work-wear. I'd have never dared walk into the kitchen wearing only a thin bit of material around my lower half once upon a time.

Sometimes, a lot of the time, the thought I am the only person she has to love and depend on saddens me instead of makes me feel almighty. She's desperately alone without me. And I never knew I'd care about someone like that; care that she is safe and okay. From herself more than anything.

_**She would have taken her life. Why didn't you let her? **__She placed the key under the mat - she didn't do much harm. She pricked her finger tip. And if I hadn't have tried she'd have probably done it because she would have thought I don't care. But I did and it made all the difference._ _And I owe her greatly; she saved my humanity_ _**Oh, give it a break. What humanity? You have feelings for a grand total of one person - that isn't humane, it's fortune that she's- **__she is not unstable, or mental. __**She's ill! **__She's getting over it._

I yank my tie so hard around my neck with my frustration that I nearly choke. It frustrates me that the darker thoughts remain only mental when the manifestations become physical. I don't wish to look intimidating sometimes and an angry look doesn't help my already imposing image.

_**Why isn't Alison afraid of you? Think about all those times she was so close, never once feeling... threatened. It supports the idea that she is a masochist... **_She is not a masochist! She fought tooth and nail to escape when I had her down - _**When I had her down, actually. She tamed at the sight of you. Just for a bit but still its something. The only thing she asked was not to be murdered. **__It's not enough support._ I hope there never is enough evidence to support it _thanks. So let's drop the masochist theory. _

I wander downstairs, shrugging my jacket on and wander into the kitchen where Alison is quickly washing the dishes.

"Taken Lola out?" I asked. She nodded and bends down into the cupboard. I can't believe I can't resist the urge to take a glance at her derriere. _**Well... **__yeah_. She must have sensed me looking, because she looked over her shoulder and I act like a little boy, shuffling off with a cheeky grin on my face. _**Terrible. **_

I quickly put some food and water in Lola's little cage thing (it's like the size of a chalet!) - _**Did I mention breasts in my run down of nice features? **__Guess that was included in curves_. _**Ah, by curves that's her hips, and her svelte waist. Just to add to the curviness are her breasts. Still sitting high for a big pair. Pretty useful for play. **__Eww... I don't want to think things like that, I look at them as a feature not as a play asset_. _**She is a perfect hourglass though? **__Minus her barely-there weight?_ _**... yeah... good point, she is thin. She's lucky. **__She starved herself for three years._ _**You mean she battled with anorexia for three years? She isn't immune to mental illness. **__I know. I just don't think I need to pin a label to her. She didn't do it because she wanted to be ultra skinny, she did it through self-loathing. Let's not think about this... Lola seems to be annoyed._

"Stupid dog," I mutter as Lola passes me, glaring as if she knows me for what I am. I then wonder if the hidden side of myself feels the same about Alison.

_**She's absolutely consumed you, she is neurotic, she has odd habits and rituals, she is touch and go in every way, she's a major distraction and has put you weeks behind in terms of progress and she caused you to go back on yourself when you wouldn't ever normally. She caused you to doubt yourself. No, I don't feel the same. You'd be better without her. In my opinion.**_

_Because you're opinion is absolutely rational._ _**I'm not saying that. I'm just saying without her we'd do much better. At least, I'd thrive if you didn't want to. If you gave me the chance I'd never go back. But you don't. Asshole. **_Hey! _**You are. You're pathetic. You're hopeless. **__I'm so hopeless I'm starting to get what I want in life. I'm not the one who is insanely happy with drugging others mindless. I don't know what the hell I want to do with all that crap._ _**Use it to investigate! Are you sure you don't want to use it on Alison? **_

_Make me a promise. That no matter what, no matter how much she makes your blood boil or pushes you over the edge, you don't hurt her_. _**That isn't to me. You don't ever want to hurt her- **__don't harm her. Don't poison her, don't physically abuse her, don't mentally diminish her, nothing._ _**-because you know that sometimes the things you've done might be worthy of retrogression in your relationship, maybe even to the extent it-**_

"Jon?" _**Jon... **_Jon. I love it when she calls me Jon, _why don't you?_ _**Too attached. You're nearly as emotionally unstable as she is- **_Fuck off. _**Ooh, temper tantrum. **__Don't dare make it sound like a bad thing she is unable to help how she feels. She doesn't ask for it._ _**You do feel strongly? **_my irrationality asks, surprised and almost hurt. A whisper comes to my ear. "Jon?"

"I'm sorry," I smile, taking her hand.

"It's 8." Really? Gosh.

At work we have a predicament. On a Monday, my duties involve... not really much more than it used to before my more executive role to be quite honest. For Alison, she does the weekly assessments of what we call grade 1 inmates. The ones who have done bad things, had problems but could get over them. They're also the most likely to go to prison after a stint in here.

We do as we need to, agreeing to meet in my office at 11am. I'm distracted, but I can still do my job. The thought of getting to have my way, anyway I like, with Alison is consuming my thoughts. I just hope there aren't any... _**physical? ... **_manifestations.

I don't know what point I fell asleep at. I hear the door go, lucid. Alison peels the book from my face which awakens me fully. I smile awkwardly and raise a brow.

"Cunning cover up. I almost didn't know you weren't reading," she remarks dryly. I pick up the book and drop it onto the desk, clutching her waist and bringing her down into my lap, holding her like I have so many times before, oozing affection.

"I thought so. I mean, especially without my hands I felt it'd be very convincing."

"I have to let you down," she whispers. _**Ha. **__Shut up_. I sweep her hair behind her ear.

"What's the issue?" I ask gently, understanding that there will be a reason, she wouldn't let me down like that. Or herself.

"I've been called for a consultancy to try help catch a sadist." _**She's going to go in favour of helping the world. You're just not **_**her**_** world. **_"Gordon rang 10 minutes ago." She does sound sorry, it's riddled in her voice. "There's been a double murder and he wants me advice since they suspect they have a body count of 4."

"If I don't see you back here, I'll see you at home."

"Thanks Jon," she smiles, though glumly. She kisses me goodbye and darts off to where ever she needs to be, presumably the police station. I watch her leave, she shuffles her feet as if she's prolonging the amount of time she spends in my office.

_**Can you honestly deal with her much longer? **__If you mean her BPD- __**I am techincally your subconscious. It's you who thinks that at the back of your mind. **__Well, we both know that isn't true. It's what the bad side of my heart-_ _**Mind. Jesus, man. **__-fine, my mind thinks. And that would be you. I'm winning this game and I will keep on doing so. _

_**Ohh, so what you're trying to say is I'm your repressed feelings? Bubbling under here until I spill. **__Yes. I'd like to keep my repressed feelings repressed, it's why they are that way. Why don't you like Alison?_ _**Haven't we been here? She gets in the way. She inhibits your progress... and she's turned you into something that you are definitely not. **_I don't think so.

_She's booked in to go away in 3 weeks time. For 6 days_. _**Why? **__I don't know. But it's something she requested a while back_. _**Are you going to find out? **__It might be on file_. With this thought, I whip around and run out of the door, going into her office. _This is... spying on her. She needs her privacy. __**Just act shocked when she reveals what she's doing. **__I think, maybe she ... no, she doesn't want to go back to Scotland... __**Maybe to murder her mum? **__Could you HONESTLY see Alison doing that? __**We saw how she was with her sister. Pretty vicious. She grew a backbone **__you of all people should know she has a backbone. __**A STRONGER backbone, fuss-pot. **__Fuss pot? _

She has actually left already. I go into her office and pull up the system. She is still logged in. Of course, you don't think to check out when its only you in an office, there isn't really any need. But if you're like me... which quite a few of us secretly are, you know this and you take advantage. It's how I pinned Dr. Mare - he didn't check out and he left a trail. _Twat._

_**She's going to **__FRANCE! __**Without you, Johnny-Boy. **__I honestly could not give a damn, I just want to know why. Hmm... I could move the lounge around whilst she's gone... __**She's going to France and hasn't told you and all you're fussed about is interior design. **__The living room is cramped! The furniture seems to have crept into the centre and is getting closer. The table can fold down, go in the kitchen- __**I ... don't care, to be honest. **__She gets arsy about moving things. Says it needs some time and thought. Perfect!_

_**You don't mind her doing that and not telling you? **__She probably forgot. I don't mind. Just as long as she doesn't tell me a few days before or something, and lands the news by surprise. _

The door springs open to my horror. Alison blinks at me with sheer confusion. I quickly go back to the page she was on without making it look obvious and hold up a folder with my left hand, to deflect her from my right hand which is moving the mouse.

"Thought I'd be nice," I shrug, "didn't mean to invade."

"Awh, no it's fine. I just remembered something I forgot," she says, totting over and leaning over the desk and opening the first draw. I take a quick glance inside but keep my eyes up, not wishing to be rude. She knows I've looked and it makes her smile. "House keys. Just in case," she said, jangling them in front of my face.

She's about to turn and walk away but I pout at her with the best puppy dog eyes I can pull on top. She giggles lightly and turns back to face me fully, giving me a quick kiss on the lips and leaving.

"Bye!" she calls back, shutting the door. I lamely hold my hand up at the now-closed door. _Pratt..._

I don't see Alison for the entire day. Oh well... I can always see her at home, can't I? Of course. And I have some interesting things to do in my afternoon. First, my therapy session with Harley (what a joke). She won't say a thing about what happened to her and to my awareness, she was a former doctor. But something happened and she's very bitter about it, yet still she says nothing about the incident that landed her the cell in Arkham.

Second, was a visit from Bruce Wayne. To me. He called up to see how _**DO YOU EVER STOP THINKING ABOUT ALISON! **_My surprise at the outburst times nicely with Bruce's timid entrance.

"Sorry. Didn't expect it to be you," I lie. Of course I did, he rang me up.

"Who else were you expecting?"

"I'm not quite sure," I laugh, nervously, "what's the matter?"

"I'm coming to see how Alison is. She hasn't been in touch for a while. I hoped she was okay."

"She's absolutely fine," I smile, "she's got a lot on her plate and she's been feeling a little sad, what with her brother and all. She's out currently, doing work with the police. I'm not sure she'll be back, you know. She took the car which is serious business."

"I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I have an event coming up soon. A fundraiser. Wanted to know if you two would like to attend?" he asks, holding out an envelope with gold lettering. _**How odd... **__I know. The week she goes away. It's almost like we've __**...**__ I've been handed an excuse to ask._

"I'll pass it on. You know, she didn't mention whilst making dinner the other day in one of her out loud thoughts that she hadn't spoken to you."

"I'm not a threat, Dr. Crane."

"I didn't say nor imply you were."

"I know you are concerned. I know you can't help but think we went out for dinner and we're close. We're similar people. You know, she really loves you. She had a little giggle when you bought her flowers, and the necklace she now won't take off. She talks about you all the time. It's nice; I've seen her look sad often and her condition obviously doesn't help. You're making her happy."

"Thanks... for putting my... slight envy... to rest."

"No problem," laughed Bruce, "tell her I dropped by, will you?"

"Of course," I nod. I've just been put on the spot, haven't I? Am I really that bitter towards him? He got to see MY Alison in a dashing dress before I did. Admittedly I had a little vendetta against her at first.

_**Say... yes you did! How did you get over it? **__It was never really real to begin with. _I smile and make it look like I've directed it to Wayne, nodding at him curtly but not too much. He shakes my hand and stands up.

"Goodbye Dr. Crane."

"Bye Mr Wayne," I reply, watching him as he shuts the door behind himself. _Eh... he's not that bad. Still, glad I don't have to suffer through visits to him with Alison._

_**He sort of ranted at you a little bit... **_That remark made me laugh.

The rest of the day isn't as interesting, but it's no matter. I can't wait for home time! I am practically rushing out of Arkham. I check Alison's office quickly to make sure she isn't there, and search the grounds just in case and get on the bus. Hey, I've had surprises for me before; I could get home and find her scantily clad in stockings and a babydoll. I don't anticipate it but it's a potential event.

And just for a surprise of my own, I get off and go to buy some wine for us. She likes red wine. Sweet red wine. And I spot a bottle which is a brand we've already had before. Just something to let her know that I don't mind about earlier; there's always other times and she had things to do. _**What a charmer... **_I know mentally there is a rolling of eyes there but I chose to ignore it.

_**Suit yourself. But you know; I'm always here. **__And we could co-exist a lot more harmoniously if you only stopped talking for one moment instead of firing on in there. Ass hole. __**You've become ruder, and blunter, since meeting Alison. **__Ruder? No, I was always pissy, you make me more so and the remarks about my girlfriend or what she does to me I don't appreciate. _

_**Listen. We can co-exist peacefully. If you admit one thing. **__...What? __**That I am something other than yourself. **__Yes. You are. A goddamn nightmare. _I strike my hand out at the bus with an anger I couldn't contain. I wish my head didn't overload with the toing-and-froing until the moment I shut my eyes and fell asleep. It drives me up the WALL!

I give the driver a look like I'm going to kill him and he raises a brow. For that look, I might just. I'm so mad suddenly. I don't think the average ... erm, not that I think myself above average I just don't think many people have an internal monologue that acts like their enemy, or a whole different person all together.

_**You should take it as a sign you're cracking up- **__I'M NOT! __**You so are. Listen to yourself. Hmm, let's diagnose you... **__Can we give this a miss? __**Schizophrenic? Nah, not delusional- **__I do have a psychology doctorate- __**MPD? Well... no. I am you, you just don't accept it. I am a part of you. The dark harboured ill feelings you feel towards humanity for- **__You are nothing more than my agony, repressed. The harmful thoughts that I can hear and the bad things I wish to go away but cannot get rid of. __**OCD? **__A persistent and irrational thought that needs alleviation? Sounds... about... fucking... right. __**Just without the compulsions, it's still OCD- **__I KNOW! I don't have Purely Obsessional OCD __**you just said **__I know what I said. I just want you to go away. This is my stop._

I cast a daunting glance at the driver as I get off and wander up the street to the house. Maybe, what will soon be _our _house _**In the middle of our street! **... _because she asked me to move in. I rolled my eyes at my (newly confessed) repression and opened the door.

"Alison?"

No reply. _Shit! _Maybe she's come home and gone to bed. It's 7:30pm, and if she got home and has been on her feet all day? I dash upstairs, carelessly, and check. The bed is unoccupied. _**Awwh. **_Just in case, I give her a call anyway. She sounds pretty flustered but she is still working. She tells me she has no idea what time she'll get in at. It doesn't matter. I just like to know she's safe.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, and another thing... I might possibly have to slow down the posting as I am now writing as I go but it'll still probably be frequent. I'm writing nearly every minute of the day.<em>


	39. Tame Revenge

/-^1^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

Jonathan sat mindlessly gazing down into his coffee and stroking the back of Alison's hand gently as she made furious notes.

"What's that?" he asked.

"A little bit of private investigating."

"You're allowed to do that?"

"I don't know. I'm doing it anyway. Are you going to tell anyone?" she giggled.

"I'm going to alert every authority I can until I see you go down," he smiled wryly. "Of course not. Just being nosy."

He slipped his hand down into his jacket pocket and felt the two envelopes. The invitations to Bruce Wayne's fundraiser or whatever the heck it was. Pretentious, presumably. _Shit, forgot these. _

"Oh, I forgot," he said, pulling them out, "Bruce Wayne came by my office on Monday whilst you were out and gave me these. Invites to a fundraiser."

"Oh, free booze," grinned Alison, looking over one and the grimacing lightly, "Ahh..."

"What's the matter?" he pushed.

"I'm taking a trip to France on the Friday... so I won't be here Saturday."

"To France?"

"Uhh, yeah... I don't think I told you actually."

"Well, no."

"I had one friend in Scotland who I went to school with. Just one," she smiled, holding up one finger, "he moved when were about 18, maybe 19 and I never saw him again. I bumped into him in the airport as I came back from my first trip over here because he'd come home for a week to visit him parents. Told me he was living in France."

"Not going to terrorise him are you?" asked Jonathan. _**Otherwise I want in.**_

"No!" she laughed, "just to see him, I guess. And for a little break, maybe? He's going to try and come here for December with his family."

"To Gotham?"

"Yeah, I told him it was crazy," smiled Alison. "Awh, sorry I forgot to tell you Jon."

"I'm not fussed," he replied, now he knew. "Just want to know what living arrangements will be in that time?"

"Well I think I trust you inordinately in the house since you're... there anyway," she chuckled. He smirked and lifted her hand, kissing it gently and glancing over at her. _Yes! I get to change the front room! FINALLY. Creepy furniture. __**That's actually your fault its all shifted into the centre of the room. If you don't recall some of your antics using the furniture. **__Really? Still, the table? __**Poof. **_

"Want me to book time off to come with you or is this dearly personal?" he questioned.

"Err, Tom wouldn't mind but erm... I don't know, you decide."

"I'll leave you to it," he smiled warmly.

"Going to go to the fundraiser?"

"Oh no. Not my thing."

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _3 Weeks Later. Friday. Airport. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan moved a loose strand of hair aside and cupped Alison's cheek as they continued to kiss as they had been doing for the past couple of minutes. Even thought she was back on Tuesday, it was still quite hard to say goodbye. That was four days apart and he needed to put Alison's anxious mind at rest. He didn't blame her for finding it hard to trust people; not really. How many people had let her down? And besides, kissing her was nice even if they stood a chance of being spotted. They'd hidden away as best they could. It wasn't normally something he'd do. <em><strong>'Cos you never got the chance until now. <strong>__Shut it, muppet. _

"You're going to be late," he whispered after he'd taken a quick glance up at the clock. She pouted miserably, finding it harder to just go than she thought she would. He pecked her gently, holding her close. "Call me when you land, and every day."

"I will do," she smiled.

"Go on," he said, nodding at the gate. She kissed him one last time and headed for the gate. He waved her off, feeling glum. On the other hand, it gave him the freedom to do whatever he wanted for a while.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>It was 1am, so far he'd had very little sleep but after a while of getting dead ends, he finally had an address. Ivana Scott's address. He grinned wickedly as he approached the door, holding a note he'd typed out earlier at a library. She may not have been the one who smashed into Alison but she certainly intended to do harm and turning up that way at the door was insane. No one hurt <em>his<em> Alison.

He slipped it under the door of her apartment and left quickly. She'd get it in the morning or something and later that evening, he would meet up with her. He went to a little hideout down an alley (which was very hard to access) and crashed out, not fancying going to sleep on a bed where he wouldn't be with Alison.

**/-^1^-\**

10pm arrived. Jonathan waited low, under the bridge. Actually the one where he had met Alison. This was going to be so easy. He didn't desire to understand her fear or pry and pick at her mind, he just wanted her out of her mind so she'd never trouble him again. However, it was ambitious of him to assume she'd turn up since he hadn't actually put a name on.

Non-the-less, the desperate bitch showed up and was stepping down the stairs when Jonathan pressed down the nozzle. She didn't hear because the winds were too high, which was good news for him. He kept spraying until she got to the bottom and ran behind the stairs, packing his things up quickly whilst checking ahead and walking out from underneath the bridge and onto the pavement, wandering along slowly.

He let a callow grin slide as he heard a much anticipated scream from the scumbag. A couple of people glanced over and ran over when they saw her writhing around about the ground. Jonathan joined in with them, prying the note out of her hand slyly as he caught a glimpse of it and shoving it into his pocket. Someone pushed through, saying they were a doctor. It was a golden ticket. Someone was always a doctor or a paramedic or a nurse.

Jonathan stood up and shuffled back, then slowly ebbed away with the forming crowd. He slipped off, up the stairs and began walking along. He'd take a trick from Alison's book and burn the note and put it in a bin somewhere. Maybe use a doggie bag and drop the ashes in with Lola's crap.

Lola was thrilled to see him when he pushed the door open, which wasn't a common thing. He groaned and realised he'd forgot to feed her.

"Sorry Lo," he sighed. "Had a good night? I did. Got what I wanted. Now hopefully they'll lock the tart away."

Lola didn't have a clue what he was on about but she seemed to look enthusiastic anyway, tail wagging behind her excitedly and jaw agape as she panted which looked more like she was smiling. Jonathan winked at the dog for some unknown reason and went to feed the poor mutt.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following week. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Alison leapt at Jonathan and wasted no time, kissing him full pelt. But when she spoke to him a surprise was in store.<p>

"Oh, I'm so happy to be back, I cannae wait to get home."

"You sound 10 times more Glaswegian than you did 4 days ago," laughed Jonathan, "I can't ... _cannae _wait to have you home," he teased. She grinned at him and took his hand as he grabbed the handle of her case. "So, how was it? Have fun with your friend?"

"Aye! It was amazing! We went all over Marseille. Favourite part was going to Notre-Dame de la Garde. I kinda wished ya were there, though."

"Miss me?" he smirked.

"I missed ya like crazy."

**/-^1^-\**

Alison enjoyed every last bit of the meal Jonathan had made for them, which was ready and waiting right when she got home. She was starving! Jonathan laughed as she pressed her hands down her barely present stomach and let out a beloving sigh.

"That was amazing, thank you."

"It's okay," he smiled, taking her hand. She picked up her wine glass and took a long sip.

"I wanna go back again. Soon? Maybe."

"Well, why don't you? Maybe I could come with you?" he grinned hopefully.

"What about...seriously? A romantic weekend?"

"Well... I'd like that if you would."

"I'd love that," she smiled, her accent suddenly changing. It was so weird. She laughed at Jon's bewildered look and picked her plate and glass up, finishing the last of the wine and running the taps. Jonathan stood and swung her back.

"No way. I'll do the washing up. You go relax, you must be shattered?"

"Are you serious?" she grinned. He kissed her softly.

"Of course. Heck, go get into bed if you feel you need to."

"I might read. Maybe... you can come up?" she suggested, raising a brow.

"We'll see," he smiled warmly, brushing a soapy finger down her nose. She giggled and ventured up to the bedroom.

He did the dishes quickly and fed Lola, carefully going upstairs. He had his suspicions which were confirmed when he went into the bedroom to find Alison spark out on the bed. She sighed gently in her sleep and clutched the covers. He pulled them over her and kissed her head lightly.

"Good night Alison," he smiled.

"Night..."

"Are you awake?" he quizzed.

No reply.

He chuckled to himself and left, turning the lights out as he went. _Sweet._

* * *

><p><em>Romantic outing to France? ;) <em>

_Ah, I'm now trying to keep to months actually having the right number of days in because whether anyone notices or not, November in the timeline seemed to have about 45 days in it or something silly so try ignore the ... I think I've set it in 2004. I think. I can't remember. Ah, just forget about the year :P_

_Oh! And Sorry I didn't make more of him getting Ivana, if you were hoping for that. I'm sure he'll have victims aplenty ;)_


	40. Dogs Need Company Too

/-^1^-\ _Same week. Wednesday. _/-^1^-\

On Wednesday, despite lack of energy or enthusiasm, Alison ventured in to work, witnessing something spectacular as she strode in with Jonathan.

"GET OFF ME! LET GO YOU WEIRDO'S! THIS IS ASSAULT!" came a scream. Alison couldn't place the voice of who it might be though.

She wandered down the corridor and up to the double doors at the end, passing through them with Jonathan close behind. Behind the wall (which had glass panels in) they could see Ivana being dragged down the corridor as she pressed her heels into the ground. She turned her head to the side at the sight of Alison and Jonathan and a guilty look washed over her. Alison smirked with satisfaction and turned to Jonathan, taking his hand and dragging him out. He looked astounded, but for a positive reason. He was inexplicably pleased about this event.

"I think today is a good day, Jon," Alison giggled as he stopped outside of his office. He suddenly subconsciously braced himself as Alison shot him a warning glance and checked side to side down the corridor to check no one was loitering outside their office.

She pushed him in and locked the door behind them skilfully whilst she kissed him. Alison's old habits coming into bizarre use, it seemed. He held back from pressing her to the door, aware this would make an immense thudding noise that would bounce down the corridor and pulled her back from it, then pulled himself from her and pushed her hands back.

"Wait, this looks like you just got horny over someone you hate being incarcerated," he said, unable to shake that idea from his head.

"... such a mood dampener," she hissed, picking her bag up from where she had dropped it on the floor. He sighed and buried his head into his hands, cursing himself many times over.

**/-^1^-\**

"I'm sorry," Jonathan whispered that evening as they relaxed on the bed. He kissed her tummy gently and clutched her free hand because the other one was holding a book as she pretended to ignore him. She sighed and put the book down, softly combing her fingers through his hair.

"I'm not mad any more, I'm just not in the mood," she whispered. He shuffled closer up and held her in his arms, getting close and cosy to her whilst they both drifted off into much needed sleep.

Alison jumped as her phone went off down her bra. Jonathan didn't have any idea how a vibrating breast was possible until she whipped her mobile out. Alison sighed and rolled her eyes.

"It's Batman!" she cursed.

"Claim you were asleep when you got the message when you next see him," whispered Jonathan, "unless there is absolutely no way out of it?"

"Don't quite know how I'm supposed to respond to 'have man in interrogation'."

Jonathan pouted and took the phone, shoving it into the draw and cuddling back up to her, kissing her head gently.

"I love you, Alison," he said as he took a breath out.

"I love you too," she smiled, falling back into sleep instantly.

"You're beautiful," mumbled Jonathan even though she was asleep.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Thursday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Alison wandered around the room a little listlessly, no idea what to do with herself. She hadn't been conducting her sessions with the Riddler for a little while to tend to her own problems and last night there had been a breakout at Arkham. The Riddler, namely. And just him. Alison was fuming and trying to keep it contained but she felt it spoke volumes about the standard of care there. It was outrageous.<p>

Nearly 10 months she'd been there and the best progress that had been seen there for a while, her work and enlightenment to him, was all undone in a matter of seconds. She wanted to see him get through it a bit better but _now _how long would it take?

Not only that, the place was beginning to wear at her too if she was being honest with herself. She'd had some pretty devastating moments in here. And if she was being even more honest, working so close to her lover was infuriating because she knew what he'd done that day and he knew what she'd done. Countless dinner times repeating the same conversation about that they did only to talk of the same things.

She kicked the able over in a bit of a watered down rage and sat down on the chair the Riddler _should _have been sat in. If she was going to do anything, it required alerting HR maybe so they could organise what needed to be done. But that could jeopardise Jonathan. And it seemed that they'd been around a couple of times. The issue was, people knew so they changed their behaviour. Alison was aware of threats being made against the patients in the past and didn't know how to manage that. But she had some ideas beginning to form.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Weekend. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>"Lola! Bring it back!" called Jonathan as Lola gnawed at the plastic toy for a while. She picked up her golden head and began to pant at him, wandering over without the toy. Jonathan rolled his eyes and gently petted Lola. "You're a stupid dog, girl. I said <em>bring it back <em>not just _back_!" he explained, as if she'd understand. She clearly didn't because she walked away and got into her kennel, looking sad. Even if he didn't like the dog, it tugged his heart strings.

Alison came wandering out in smart/casual clothing suddenly. She'd been dressed in baggy jeans and a large jumper before. Jonathan tilted his head back to look at her and grinned, his eyes twinkling at her. She came and sat behind him and clutched onto him tightly, hugging him.

"I'm off to visit Bruce, don't know when I'll be back," she whispered.

"Just call me so I know if to make us dinner or not," he said, squeezing her hand. He was amazingly compliant with Alison's lack of planning. She hated being restrained to the same old routine each week. Another reason why Arkham sucked.

"Don't leave Lola outside," tittered Alison in his ear, making him smirk.

"Now _**why **_would I do that?" he replied. She pressed her hand to his cheek in a gentle slapping motion.

"Can I take the car?"

"No, I'm going to make you take the bus or ride a bike to Wayne Manor!" he responded sarcastically.

"Cheers!" sang Alison, leaving.

"Lola, try and show some intelligence," remarked Jonathan, "because bright conversation just left the house."

The neighbours glanced over at him, brow raised a snarl forming on their lips. They were so nosy! Just because he was talking to the dog didn't mean he had mental issues, it meant he loved their pet dog even if she was as dim as it got. Dogs needed company too! Lola padded over and glumly settled her head on his lap, making him smile.

"Good girl."

* * *

><p><em>;) How about a review? XD<em>


	41. I Quit

/-^1^-\ _8 weeks later. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

Alison started pulling faces at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, amusing herself greatly. Her face fell when she spotted Jonathan leant against the door frame gazing into the bathroom at her, a little wry smile on his face as she goofed around. She spat the toothpaste out and just quickly carried on with her morning routine.

**/-^1^-\ **

"Come in," said Jonathan, picking his head up. A habit he'd had to force as not to look rude. He was astounded to see Alison totting in. She usually just waltzed in casually because... _she _could. "Hey?"

"Hi, I need to talk to you," she said, glancing at the chair but not taking it. He frowned and gazed expectantly at the chair. She took it and glanced up nervously, trying to think what to say.

"Alison?"

"I quit."

"What?"

"I quit. Here. I can't take it. I'm pretending I'm happy, lying to myself that I am and I'm just not. Nothing works. Nothing here works and I can't handle that, I need to be doing something efficient!"

"Well, why didn't you tell me you were thinking about this?" asked Jonathan.

"Because I only made my mind up _just _now."

"So, you haven't thought about it?"

"I'm between two decisions. I haven't thought about it fully."

"I'm not letting you. You're in high spirits now, you think you're invincible. Whilst I don't doubt this sometimes, you're making decisions based off that feeling. Irrational ones. You could turn around in a month's time and realise you've made a mistake."

"No. I haven't. I won't, even. I know the work I'm doing with the police is long but it's because I haven't been there all day, doing what I need to do. And... maybe I haven't told you that ... I asked them if they could use me more abundantly and told them my intentions to quit. They seemed over the moon..."

"So, you're going to be... crime psychologist?"

"...Yes. Basically."

"Not yet. I won't let you quit just yet. But book the time off, and in the time you have off... do the other thing?"

"Well, you better do it ASAP."

"What?"

"I'm off. To the police station. Interesting evidence to submit."

"...Right..."

"My other plan was private detective."

"We have one of those."

"Yeah well... that's why..." she said, leaving quickly.

**/-^1^-\**

Jonathan pouted miserably and squirted the spray at Ivana as she crawled around, desperately trying to escape. Didn't seem like too much fun currently though, he was too preoccupied with Alison. He sighed and left the room, nodding to one of the goons and leaving the basement.

He'd got home alone tonight, then. And wait up for her, to see if there was anything she needed... and he'd be alone... for many nights to come. _She's not using me, is she? __**You better hope not. **__Shut it, I'm __so__ miserable right now. __**Boo-hoo-hoo! **_

He tried his best not to slam his door but failed miserably and went and sat down, sulking about the situation. It wasn't a big deal, but yes it was! And what the heck did she mean by 'that's why' when he brought up Batman after her crazy plan to be a private detective? Was she being serious?

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Wednesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan awoke with a sigh and realised he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. He grumbled and went to sit up but stopped when he could feel a hand shift against his head. He looked to the side to see Alison sleep on the sofa too, head lolling down. His head was on her lap, somehow. She hadn't even been in when he nodded off. He raised a brow and prodded her cheek slowly.<p>

"AHH!" she screamed, making him yell with surprise as well. "GRR! I HATE TWIGS!" she yelled, scratching her fingers through her hair and tossing her head about. Jonathan sat up and pulled her hands down, tilting his head at her.

"What?"

"... Oh, dreaming," she said, shutting her eyes and seeming to drift back off. He didn't buy it though.

"Alison, it's the morning," he said, "time for work?" he prompted, but she was genuinely still sleeping.

He stood up, making her stir. His pants fell down unexpectedly. He quickly pulled them back up and put his belt on, cringing because he didn't remember unzipping them.

He sat down next to Alison and she jumped up with surprise. She rest her head on his shoulder when she calmed down and stroked his cheek rhythmically. He looked so sad; it was breaking her heart.

"You were plastered last night," she said, giving him a sorry look, "you were rambling on, about me not quitting Arkham and that you hoped France would be romantic and even though you were being cheesy you really hoped that what you were doing would mean something to me-"

"Tell me exactly what I said!" he cried.

"Exactly what I just said but in your narrative," she laughed, "then you vomited all over my shoes and then in the kitchen into Lola's food bowl. So I told you to go into the downstairs bathroom and clean up. You didn't pull your pants up, I don't know why you had them down because you didn't actually go to the loo, and you tripped. You refused to drink any water and went for yet more alcohol instead."

"Why did I get so drunk? Without you?"

"I have no idea. I don't know why you'd elect to get drunk. But you were pissed. In two senses, because you seemed pretty mad at me," she commented. He cast his eyes down ashamedly.

"Are you taking me for a ride?" he asked.

"What... why? How?" she questioned confusedly. "I don't know what I've done."

"Quitting your job so blatantly. You're not using me for money and sex? Or something?"

"There are hundreds of men, in Gotham city, who I could use that for and out of all of them I choose you because I feel the most overwhelming loyalty to you. If you think, for one second, I am quitting my job so I can freeload off you then you better ask yourself some serious questions. _You_ were so _ticked off_ at me for being _afraid_ you'd leave but I love you _so much_, and everything about you that is loveable is desirable and whilst you might not have been able to rationalise it, I could reason out my paranoia because of those things. Now you're mad at me ... because you're paranoid."

She stood up and left the room, leaving him alone and in woe.

* * *

><p><em>Silly Johnny! Review? :D I'll give you chocolate*<em>


	42. Would You Ever

_Some slightly crude words be ahead! _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Day. Wednesday Evening. _/-^1^-\

"Jonathan, where are we going?" asked Alison as he missed the turn to get to her house. He kept his eyes on the road.

"People talk about things in cars. They have their arguments and they get things that are heavy on their chest off. I'm taking us for a ride."

"I'm tired!" she sighed.

"Psychological. You're just trying to avoid me."

"Can you think why?" she asked sarcastically.

"I hate what I said. What I might have said when I was drunk. It's so unfair, you're right. But I can't see why you're quitting your job, I don't know if it's a rational decision. I tried to take care of you, I just did it badly."

"I haven't asked you to be my caretaker, you appointed yourself. You could leave me be, you'd be in a far better position to take advantage of me if you didn't because there is so much I wouldn't do. You have yourself to blame for having the morality not to do that. As for money, I bought my house, I paid my bills before I had a job because I'm good with money. You wouldn't need to take care of me financially. And as I said, the sex ... well, I could get that anywhere as well as the money. Or just the sex, if I were a slapper. The fact I'm sometimes reluctant because I'm just not in the mood should be the big give-away."

"Told you people talk and argue. Anything you need to get off your chest?"

"I'm bored! I'm quitting my job because I'm bored to tears with it. And another thing is that my patient, Eddie... he was doing so brilliantly, I was helping him. I knew he might relapse but what the hell did someone do to him to make him get WORSE. THAT MUCH THOUGH! And now, he's on the news, wearing tight spandex unitards that glitter in the dark and teasing Batman like its foreplay! I mean, for _fucks _sake! I spent nearly ten months working with him. TEN! And look how much I did, look how much I changed him. Now if he saw me; he'd batter me to death with his little cane!" she sniped. "WHO. SAW. HIM?"

"I don't know-"

"I'm going to HR with it-"

"I already did."

"What?" she gaped.

"They said his progress was superficial," he reiterated, from their letter, "and that he was pretending, with the ulterior motive to get out because 'that is regular behaviour exhibited in so-called super criminals. Sorry we can't help more'. That's what they told me."

"It wasn't."

"I know. So I stressed it to them and they asked me if what I saw was an example of progress. There was no way to win that one, I don't think."

"I'm so unhappy, right now."

"I didn't know you were, you seem fine at home."

"At... home."

"I know. Different thing entirely."

"What about you? Arguments... getting things of your shoulders?"

"I wish you'd tell me things more. I know you trust me but I sometimes feel it gets undermined by your surprise announcements. I know it's just the way you think but I'm not afraid of your thought process. I know how intelligent you are; you're genius. If you thought out loud and told me things more, I wouldn't get annoyed you. Don't you ever feel like you need to let the spout run?"

"All the time," she smirked.

"Walk with me," he said, opening the door. She nodded and got out, taking his arm as he walked around to her. He locked the door from her side and they began treading along in the crunchy leaves which were slightly damp. "I'm so sorry," he said lowly, "I panicked and I don't know why but you don't know how much I wish I could take it back. This isn't a bid for us to be okay, it's a plead for us to start doing things _**properly**_!"

"Yeah, I know. And I know most of it was drunken rambling from you. But I just took it to heart with how low I'm feeling."

"I wish you'd have told me."

"I'm sorry," she nodded.

"So am I. For several things all at once," he whispered, turning his head for a moment to kiss her, before continuing to speak, "namely getting plastered and accusing you of freeloading. You need to stop hiding from me though!"

"I'm not trying to hide."

"Yes you are. And you know it."

"But you have to do things for me then, too."

"Such as?"

"Stop assuming that everything has BPD driving behind it. I'm your wife not your patient."

"You're not even my wife," he laughed. She bit her lip, shocked she'd just said that.

"I know. That was so daft..."

"Was it? Or was it something you wanted?"

"I... don't know what you're getting at," she lied. He raised a brow and shrugged.

"Alright, would you ever marry me?"

"I think... yes. BUT I'd want the down on one knee thing. I always wanted that."

"Hint hint?" he smirked, "down on one knee..." he took a glance around and pursed his lips, "well, I'm not flexible enough to get down on one knee..."

"I beg to differ," she laughed accusingly.

"Ah, this is sooner than I intended but it's so worth it," he said warmly, "it could blow everything out of the door, actually..."

"What?" she frowned.

He came to a standstill and tilted his head at her with consideration before seeming to nod to his own thoughts and digging into his pockets and standing before her, getting down on one knee.

"You want down on one knee... you get that. Even in mud and shit. Alison, will you marry me?" he proposed.

Far from the scream of either horror or joy he'd expected, she became diffident and quiet. It was a fascinating response. She put her left hand to her mouth, not to cover it but to chew on her thumb nail. It wasn't because she was going to put her hand forward to agree but was thinking about it first though; it was just because she was left handed. He braced himself for a reply _any time soon._

"Yes," she grinned, holding her hand out. "Bloody hell, yes," she laughed, biting her lip as he delicately slipped the ring onto her finger as he stood up. He pecked her gently and then raised a brow at her.

"You know, when I was drunk what I really meant to say was you'd make a brilliant private investigator," he lied.

"Charming," she replied sarcastically.

"So, why did it have to be down on one knee?" he asked. She began sniggering instantly.

"So I could have the illusion of a perfect romance-"

"Oi!"


	43. No Danger

_Ooh, it's been a fair bit since posting and unfortunately this is only fairly short (by my standards) but I am working on catching back up._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _4 weeks later. Friday. _/-^1^-\

Jonathan gulped as Alison cast him **that **look. Whatever was coming it wouldn't be tame. Sure enough, she yanked on his tie to pull him back into the bedroom. He tried so hard not to get enthused but it easier said/thought than it was done.

"Unlike _someone _I DO have to go to work," he warned as Alison sank her nails into his belt and began to undo it. _God, I love it when she's like this _his mind sighed pathetically.

"Quickie," she smiled deviously, tugging him back to the bed. He pounced at her somewhere in that process and pinned her down.

"Screw it," he remarked, clutching her hips and kissing her with so much force.

Jonathan yawned as he went out of the door. Alison turned his head to look at her and kissed him gently.

"Have a nice day," she smirked, "don't fall asleep at the wheel."

"Thanks for that," he grimaced, "I'll ring you when I get to work. Let you know I'm alive."

"Good idea," she nodded sarcastically.

"Or not, if you don't care," he shrugged. Alison clutched him tightly out of the blue. He stepped back inside for a moment and held her in his arms.

"That upset you, didn't it?" he asked.

"When I thought about it," she whispered.

"Don't you dare worry," he smiled, kissing her cheek, "see you tonight."

**/-^1^-\**

"I don't really like planes," remarked Alison as they got closer and closer to landing in Marseille. This was the third time that he'd been on a plane with her and she had never expressed discomfort before. She didn't even look unhappy.

"Really?" he frowned, leaning over and glancing out of the window, "why?"

"Travel sickness," she said. He gently lowered her head onto his shoulder and stroked her delicate skin.

"Should have said something, honey," he whispered, "I was going to propose to you either on the plane or in the airport. Obviously, I couldn't do it down on one knee here, or not as well. So I thought about the airport but I'd have never managed it, you'd have hated it being so public and so would I. The intention being you could spend the journey in the taxi in amazement and then when we got to the hotel; all hell let loose under the sheets," he smirked, "I didn't realise the frequency was going to skyrocket anyway."

They'd had ups and downs in the bedroom. Since he'd proposed the balance had shifted and they were at it a lot more. And since Monday, when she'd finally left Arkham, in the space of a few short days it had become a little more experimental and mind blowing.

Jonathan knew it was because Alison was clingy to him. And if she was married to him then she could feel like she belonged to him and he belonged to her. Almost like a possession. That wasn't to say she was possessive she'd just marked her territory. It'd be worse if he hadn't done the same. To get married meant to her the ability to be more secure in giving herself to him. If that was what the promise of getting married brought then he couldn't imagine what _being _married would bring.

She tucked herself up against him and smiled, dozing for the next 30 minutes of the flight, safe in his arms. Not that there was any danger, he just liked to think of it that way.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _France. Saturday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan pulled out the suitcases from the back and glanced up at Alison who seemed to be unable to move as she stood on the pavement. He glanced over, pulling the last bag out and approaching her as she glanced down the street.<p>

"Tom," she whispered, "I don't know what he's doing here..."

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Jonathan, confused.

"I don't think so," she frowned, "It's just unexpected. Tommy!" she called.

"Ally, how are you?" grinned Thomas, approaching. Jonathan wandered to Alison's side with the luggage and glanced at Thomas.

He short, had bright blonde hair and hazel eyes. He was a pale, scrawny looking man. He only just reached Alison's height (and she wasn't even wearing heels) when he got closer. He pulled Alison into a hug, his eyes pinned onto Jonathan, who did his best just to smile despite feeling like he was being evaluated. Thomas pulled away from Alison and shook Jonathan's head.

"I'm Jonathan," he prompted.

"Thomas," nodded Tom, "you must be Alison's haul."

"If you would like to think of me as some form of cargo or treasure," commented Jonathan, smirking at Alison who giggled lightly under her breath. Thomas smirked and glanced at the bags.

"Need any help?" he asked.

"Oh no, it's fine. Thank you though."

"What are you doing here?" asked Alison curiously.

"Just wanted to make sure you made it. Not that there'd be any reason you wouldn't but ... I worry," smiled Thomas, "I'll leave you be, see you later."

"See you," said Alison, dazedly as Thomas walked away. She turned to Jonathan and took his hand, nearly dragging him into the hotel.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she nodded, lying through her teeth.


	44. Family?

_Still slow-slow-slowww at moving things along :P _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Sunday. _/-^1^-\

_"I love you," Jonathan whispered, kissing her neck, "I love you, Alison. Please love me back. It doesn't cost anything."_

_"Loving you? It costs me sleep sometimes."_

_"Then I won't give you cake in bed."_

_"Cake?"_

_"Oh, that got your attention," he smirked, teasing the fork to her lips and feeding her the cake._

_"Turn the camera off," she laughed, "I am not having a video of me scoffing cake saved forever."_

_"I think this camera has seen worse," he remarked. _"But if that's what you want."

"Why have you got that? You can't do any research here."

"Memories are sweet to and when I start to lose them I'd like a booster for some," he said, planting the camera he used to use for his research down on the bedside table.

"Why the cake?" she grinned, taking another bite. Dreamy chocolate.

"I think you need a bit of attention," he whispered, "to not have to focus on any other emotions beside pleasure and love," he said, laying over her, clutching her hips and kissing her tummy gently. Alison noticed he'd put himself in an ideal position to lay his head on her bosom. He did it.

She pressed the fork down on his lips and he opened his mouth to eat the cake. Which wasn't there. He picked his head up and frowned with pretend annoyance at her as she giggled, taking another bite herself. She cut a bit off this time and fed it to him.

"You make me so happy, Jonathan," she whispered. He moved up a bit so he was equal height to her and brushed his thumb over her cheek.

"I know," he laughed. "I do. I know that I do and it makes me happy that you're happy. I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled coyly.

"And I can't wait to be forced to spend the rest of my life with you," he joked.

"Hey, you asked for it," she pointed out. He rolled his eyes and sighed, breathing on her neck on purpose to tickle her. She giggled and tucked herself against him, tittering lightly.

_That is so cute. Come on... do you like her yet? __**I obviously don't have a choice, or any say in the matter of you marrying her. You need to watch out. **__Eugh, stop the analysing and stop being so critical of her. __**Not of her. Of Thomas Drummond. He's watching you closely. **__Why? __**I need to work that out yet. **_

Alison must have been psychic, or focused on the same thing as his subconscious.

"Jonathan, watch out for Thomas," she whispered, "he doesn't like you."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she whispered, pressing her hand against Jonathan's cheek. "He kept giving you an odd look; he doesn't look happy to see you."

"Well, it's his problem. It'll be okay," smiled Jonathan, kissing her sweetly.

**/-^1^-\**

"So, how long have you been with him?" asked Thomas.

"9... 10 months... ish," said Alison. Thomas raised a brow and sighed.

"Don't you think it's a little soon?"

"No. I don't," she hissed defiantly.

"You're not ready for something like marriage, Alison," said Thomas, shaking his head. "Should be waiting until you're at least 30."

"Why?"

"Because you normally take years to trust people. Why is this guy different? And have you discussed everything that will be involved in living life together to check your expectations match? That you both want the same things? I guess probably not since we are talking about you here. Alison, no offence but you're so difficult to deal with... how do you know he can?"

**/-^1^-\**

Jonathan kept a firm hold of Alison as she sat in his arms in hysterics. He couldn't let her go right now, she was too distressed. She was trying her best though.

"Alison, listen to me. Alison," he urged, "Ally, you're having a panic attack. You need to tell me why."

"Why won't you let me go?" she wailed.

"Because I love you and I won't let you stay this way. I'm keeping hold until you're calm. So just accept that and breathe," he whispered softly in her ear. She began to work on it and gradually calmed down, although she was still tense. He could feel it in her. "Why?" he asked. She knew what he meant.

"Tom... Tom pointed out I don't know if... if we have the same expectations. Or if you can... can handle ME!" she wailed, sinking into his arms as she burst into tears.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

It took half an hour before her crying subsided. He hated it so much when she'd cry because sometimes he didn't know how to take away her sorrow or fear. Sometimes he had to just let her cry until she could bear a conversation.

"What did he say?"

"Said I probably haven't found out if we have the same expectations, want the same things, know what being married involves... he said I was difficult to deal with and how did I know you could?"

"You are not difficult to deal with. Look at what working Arkham phases you with! That's **difficult**! You are not; and frankly I think I do quite a good job of being there for you."

"Oh, you do," she smiled, "but what if you get tired of having to deal with your emotionally unstable wife-to-be?"

"That's never going to happen. I wouldn't even know you had BPD recently if I didn't already know. So, expectations?"

"That's mental illness pushed aside?"

"For me, personally... yeah," he shrugged.

"We never stopped to talk about things like ..."

"We don't really have anything much to worry about since we've already sorted things out like housework and money so that just leaves... family?" he smirked. She nodded, cautiously. "Well, in-law's are obviously not important, that just leaves children. Do _you_ want children?" he asked.

"... Yes," she nodded slowly, "in time."

"Then I don't see a problem because I do too."

_**WHAT!**_

* * *

><p><em>Eeek... Someone isn't happy! <em>


	45. Confrontational

_Swearing be ahead, but if you've come this far and are going to get offended by that now... I do wonder why you kept reading. _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ Monday Morning. /-^1^-\

Jonathan laid beside Alison as she slept somewhat soundly. Not exactly the romantic little adventure they'd planned, but on Tuesday they'd be getting on a train over to Paris where they'd stay for the next ten days, without some manipulative, apparently jealous, psychotic friend trying to convince her not to get married to him.

_**Why the hell did you say you want children? **__Stop asking. There is only one answer that can be given to that question and I gave it. If you think I am going to forfeit having a family, wife, kids and dog, just to humour your neediness then you can think again. __**You're not in control here- **__I beg to differ, because I am in control, have remained in control and will STAY in control. Let me get some sleep. __**But I am an integral part of you. There's nothing you can do about me since you won't admit you have a problem. Your problem is you not accepting me - not accepting you need revenge on the world for what it has done to you. **__The world has hardly damned me. Sorry; just look at my fiancée... is that cruel? __**Something will give. **__I hope it's your voice. __**Your voice - **_

"Fuck off," whispered Jonathan out loud. It was enough to stir Alison. He slumped back, pretending to be asleep as she turned over to him. She couldn't have been in a very deep sleep. His cover blew itself when he smiled as she curled up to him, slipping her arms across him and kissing his chest lightly.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she laughed softly, "I'm sleepy."

"I think that's why we're in bed."

"This time."

"Yeah, for once," he snorted.

**/-^1^-\**

They were sat around a café table at midday, drinking tea with a bland manner and absolutely 100% not enjoying themselves. Alison's hands were shaking uncontrollably as she brought her cup to her lips and tried to take a drink. More of it ended up on her (luckily brown) scarf.

"Are you okay?" asked Thomas, raising a brow, feeling concerned.

"No. Clearly. Not."

"Do we need to go?" asked Jonathan.

"No... we will cope. And we will sit here. And drink _fucking _tea..." spat Alison curtly.

"There's ... no need-"

"WHAT ARE YOU! MY DAD?" snapped Alison at Thomas. Jonathan tried not to smirk but failed miserably. As distressing as it was to see his fiancée screaming at her oldest friend it was funny too. Thomas leered at him.

"You think this is funny; why not ask her what's wrong instead of 'do we need to go?' because I bet the issue is between you two so-"

"It's you actually-"

"Please don't do this," sighed Alison.

"Excuse me?" asked Thomas.

"Yeah. She came back to the hotel last night, crying her eyes out. And who had she just spent a couple of hours with? You. Who calmed her down after you got her riddled with panic? Me."

Thomas stood up confrontationally, but to his utter shock so did Jonathan. And in Thomas's opinion, Jonathan looked like a sheer cream puff.

"Well you know why... I think it's a bit weird frankly because she didn't talk to me properly for 3 years and you just waltzed into her life-"

"Why are you doing this?" asked Alison, to nobody but herself.

"Maybe because I am a hell of a lot nicer than you are and I don't try mentally diminish her or try to terrify her out of something she wants badly."

"Thomas, you really should sit down because he's yet to say anything invalid unlike yourself who is yet to say something valid-"

"Shut the fuck up, Alison," snapped Thomas.

Alison jumped back as fists went flying. She sort of expected it to be Thomas who threw the first punch but Jonathan had launched himself right at Thomas first and was, in the blink of an eye, clobbering Thomas with more violence than she knew Jonathan had. Frankly scary, she felt.

Thomas scratched Jonathan's cheek, leaving two bleeding wounds there whilst in the meantime he lost about three teeth and had his jaw broken. One of them was going to kill the other if something wasn't done, but the bystander effect was reeking the area; even as Jonathan continued to break a broken jaw.

"STOP!" screamed Alison, pushing the table onto them without any realisation about how much that could hurt either of them. Next thing she heard was a pain-stricken yell from Jonathan and a rather strangled gurgle from Thomas.

But they did stop fighting in the middle of a sidewalk outside of a café in a foreign country. Not really by choice though; Thomas had passed out and Jonathan's ankle was probably sprained at the very least.


	46. Protectiveness

_This is fairly melancholy, but I am close to picking up the pace :D _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ Same Day /-^1^-\

They were sat in Thomas's apartment. He had been concussed and was quite sore and bruised from the scrap. Jonathan was able to walk but he had to hobble along awkwardly. Alison was just livid. She paced up and down the apartment, not speaking to either man.

"Alison?" they asked at the same time, awkwardly glancing at each other.

"Shh!" she snapped, opening the balcony doors and walking out, shutting them behind her.

"I'm worried she'll never forgive either of us," said Thomas.

"I'm worried she's on a balcony with a 20ft drop," said Jonathan, quickly getting up. Thomas and Jonathan ran outside, their hearts skipping a beat when they didn't see her at first. Thomas pointed at the floor where Alison was curled up in a little ball, sobbing. Jonathan let out a sigh of relief.

"Ally?" asked Jonathan, sitting down uncomfortably at her side. Thomas shut the door, leaning back against it.

"I am out here to be ALONE," she yelled.

"We can't leave you alone. We're sorry," shrugged Thomas.

"You're sorry to me! Which makes no sense! You didn't pummel each other senseless!"

"Right," frowned Thomas, "so you want us to say it to each other?"

"Really?" asked Jonathan.

"Aren't you sorry for beating each other senseless?" asked Alison, "Remorse? Guilt? WHY!"

Jonathan let out a sigh as Thomas glanced out over the balcony. Gently, Jonathan goaded Alison to sit up and he softly stroked through her hair, waiting for her to come around.

"Do you really care that much?" asked Thomas, narrow eyed as he watched Jonathan, who nodded in response. "How? Why?"

"How? I don't know how to explain to a nearly total stranger that I think she's amazing... and.. Why? Why wouldn't I? I'm not messing around, I'm not going to take all she has and leave her out in the cold, I'm not going to hurt her if that's what you think."

Alison shrank back on purpose, waiting for the two men to level the ground out.

"She was the first person I met who I liked... I mean, realised I fancied. We've had our odd ups and downs but we would... we can't be perfect. But I'm going to protect her, I'm going to be there for her. I'm not going to strip her bare of her identity, I'd love for her to find herself."

"I'm not sure I don't believe you wouldn't take advantage..."

"What exactly is there to take advantage of?" asked Jonathan, "Emotional instability, because I know about that, I know about her past-"

"Jonathan..." whispered Alison, "he doesn't recognise me, again. That's why he can't believe it," she said, "I told you I was in intensive care..."

"Yeah?"

"In a coma," she shrugged, "I don't know who I am any more I just know that I have all the bad memories; because I lost the good ones. I forgot so many things... and I was sad. Now I'm happy. But then I'm burdened. And he thinks you'll take advantage of my state; he's just being protective. Apparently... I forgot I was happy, that I was free. And he can't believe I'm back."

"We did lose you, didn't we?" asked Thomas, sighing as he sat down.

He'd come back when he'd heard. He'd been so distressed whilst Alison was in a coma. Black and blue and unable to say anything, unable to do anything. The misery and tension of waiting for a response that indicated awareness to arrive; every day it never coming leaving him with expanding panic. He could only think one thing; _what if she never wakes up?_

Odd speech, fumbling hands, inability to make it to the toilet sometimes. That would be fine, Alison would have found that fine - she'd probably have mocked herself if she could remember aspects of her fun-loving free spirited personality. But if she went... that would have left him inconsolable.

He'd had to go back for a while to France to carry on with university, and when he came back he'd found out that Alison had been through a rehabilitation process and she'd gone. He was so lucky really, that he caught her in the airport. She seemed so confused; couldn't remember he'd gone to France. She was so sad too. The best years of her life yet wiped away.

Jonathan glanced at Alison, nervous. She didn't tell him a lot of things, he knew that was because she was so afraid. This was something of a shock to hear. Alison had probably told Thomas that she'd informed Jonathan, it was what she did. She never lied to be deceiving - she lied to hide away and pretend things weren't happening then they seemed to be bad. He started to wonder many things all at once whilst reflecting on some. Alison had poor handwriting, poor balance and poor coordination. Was that because of the coma; the neurological damage? How badly did she have to be hit for that to happen?

His hand had been in his pocket. He had a syringe in there, which he was going to sedate Alison with. Then a tiny bit of the toxin to hit Thomas with. But he couldn't do it. His mind was begging him to but he couldn't. The stronger part of his mind knew that would upset Alison.

Thomas was obviously the only happy thought she had about life before she came to Gotham. If he took away Thomas's mind, if he stripped him of who he was, Alison wouldn't have anything left to feel happy for about the past. It wasn't a consideration he'd ever have normally made but this time, it was necessary.

"You have my word," whispered Jonathan, as he pulled Alison closer to rest against him. He looked up at Thomas. "I could never hurt her," he promised.

"I'm holding you to it."


	47. Gaudium

_This is a lot shorter than normal but this chapter is to just move things along really for the transition into the next part of what is to come for them._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _10 months later. July. _/-^1^-\

The people doing Alison's hair and makeup had told her they were used to people chattering if she needed to do that. They said that she'd looked like she needed to; her face was bright red, she kept going to speak but stopped, she kept stammering when asked questions and had to stop speaking. After they offered, she just couldn't stop.

"My real accent is much thicker, I'm just like an accent chameleon," she rambled as one of the girls doing makeup said she had a lovely accent. "I come here, I sound slightly American, I go home - Bang - Glaswegian. I don't really like my accent. Any of them. I went to London; sounded dead posh and snotty because the first person I spoke to did. Can I take a drink?"

"Of course," laughed the girl, handing Alison the drink. She gulped it down, spilling some of it on herself.

She was horribly nervous, it was scary actually. She looked on the verge of fainting and her cheeks were bright red without any make up on them. They'd had to open all of the windows and put a fan on just so she'd cool down. Her mind was far from cool though.

There was a knock on the door and one of the make-up artists peeked around.

"It's that blonde boy," she said, turning to Alison.

"Thomas?" she asked.

"Yeah," came Thomas's voice from behind the door

"He can come in," nodded Alison. Thomas shuffled in through the door and tilted his head to look at Alison as she sat gazing up at him. He broke into a smile and approached, softly stroking her cheek.

"You look so scared," he whispered.

"What if something goes wrong? What if this goes terribly wrong?"

"What could go wrong?"

"I don't know; anything!"

"If anything goes wrong, at all... it doesn't matter Alison; because you're only human. And you'll be okay," Thomas pointed out. "You look lovely."

"I'm so scared," she whispered, clutching his hand. He embraced her carefully as not to mess her hair up or smudge her make-up or something disastrous.

"I could tell everyone to go apart from me?" he suggested, "who cares if the others feel let down? This is your day!"

"It'll be okay. I just need to know that nothing can go wrong."

"Then you're not going to be okay. We don't know how things are going to pan out until they happen," whispered Thomas, planting a gentle and very loving kiss on her forehead. "I'll do my best for you though," he promised. "I'm going to go and check that everything is in order."

"Thank you," whispered Alison, "wait! The dress..."

"Are you going to put it on?"

"Do you want to see?" she asked, nodding in response to his question. He took a deep breath in and nodded, beaming widely.

Alison went behind the divider and emerged about 10 minutes later with the dress on. It was just plain, ivory, heart-shaped neckline, with cute little sleeves. The lower half of the dress wrapped around her waist a little and swept out making her look like she was floating. The word that came to Thomas's mind was princess. She looked like a fairytale princess.

"Wow..."

Thomas clutched her arm and guided her down the make shift isle. It was outside so the 'isle' was created with chairs. Thomas couldn't exactly give her away but he could walk her down the isle, of course. Jonathan was trying desperately not to glance over his shoulder, visibly smiling wryly.

There weren't that many guests which was better for Alison who was trying not to freak out. Thomas glanced around and nodded at a few people who he'd come to know through Alison when he'd come over to Gotham.

He was alright with Jonathan now, but he'd told Alison if he ever did anything even slightly out of line, he wasn't going to waste a moment in booking her a flight out of Gotham and to France to stay with him. If she needed to, he'd help her start a new new life. If necessary. But he didn't think that would be a problem now.

Jonathan had his eyes shut when they got there. Thomas gently kissed Alison's head again and left her side. Jonathan opened his eyes slowly and was glancing at Alison when he opened them.

"Wow," he whispered. "Wow!"

Alison began to grin and her blush flared up again, but for a good reason rather than dread.

"Happy new life... here we go," she grinned as they turned to each other to be wed.


	48. Our Space

_Ah, sorry I haven't posted so much for a few days - went to see Batman Live yesterday and by the time I got in I was too tired to write! This is still a bit slow but I'm picking things up, this is just to get to where it needs to be :)_

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _2 Weeks Later. Friday. _/-^1^-\

Alison buried her hands into the soil in the plant pot on the porch, taking out the spare key. She was quite excited but nervous at the same time. She dropped the spare key into her pocket and pulled out the front door key. The spare key was the one that Thomas had used to look after the house. The new house.

"Remind me why we did this again?" she asked Jonathan.

"To make it ours," smiled Jonathan, squeezing his wife's shoulder. She turned the key but didn't open the door straight away.

"I'll kill him if he has done anything stupid," she whispered, pushing the door back and stepping in, flicking the lights on. Thomas had been looking after the house for them whilst they were away on their honeymoon.

She glanced around slowly at the ceilings, at the staircase in the hallway and the doors along it. She wandered into the living room. Cosy, brown, no fireplace like her other house. The TV was in the corner, a little bit out of the way because they weren't fond of TV. Something she'd always done. The sofa's were in a comfortable arrangement around the new coffee table they'd bought.

She smiled, drifting along into the dining room and kitchen which were lovely. There was a note on the door which said 'everything works'. She took it off and pinned it to the fridge, giggling. She'd always wanted to pin stuff to a fridge but had never had anything to put onto one. The old table was still being kept but it worked really nicely in the kitchen.

There was a small toilet/cloakroom on the other side in the hallway and the other door was an office with both of their things in. She put her suitcase down in there to go freely venture upstairs. So far she was impressed.

"Wow," she whispered, climbing up the stairs. The carpet felt soft - she didn't want to ruin it. She kicked off her shoes and left them at the bottom. Jonathan shifted them aside and took his off, having got the message.

She checked out the bathroom first. Plain, white and blue like her old bathroom but much more accessible. She'd found the shower and the bath hard to get into sometimes because they were awkward. So here, the bathroom had been done for that reason.

She sat down on the toilet, gazing at the door in the corner. It used to be horrible in the old bathroom because she'd sit on the toilet and if she left the door open you could see downstairs - sometimes there would be people looking through the windows or if someone came up and the door was ajar then you would be viewable.

Jonathan came in and smiled at her, having felt the same about it before. He didn't want to be on show when doing his business. He held his hand out to her and she took it dreamily, standing and following him.

He took her into the room nearest the stairs which was empty but decorated simply. "Space," he said, pulling her out and going to the door at the other side, into room which was similar to the other. "Space," he stated again. He guided her into the end room which was a deep chocolate colour, the bedding cream coloured. "Our space," he smiled.

She split into a grin and turned to him, kissing him relentlessly. She was safe, she was his and there would be nothing that could change that which she could think off. And these new memories, the happy ones - they were there to stay.

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Weekend. Sunday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Alison was sat in the office doing work, whilst not at work. She'd grown oddly anxious not working and as soon as she had gone back to work she had gone practically overdrive. She hadn't even noticed Jonathan slip out and it stunned her when the door went as he came back.<p>

She jumped up and grabbed the scissors off the table, walking out. Jonathan turned around as she quickly tossed them aside.

"Hi," he smiled, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she nodded. "I'm fine. You?"

"Good," he grinned, kissing her nose gently as he passed by. She giggled nervously, not paying any attention to the stuff he was carrying in his arms.

In a way, he wished she would. It would just save him.

He just couldn't say it.

He went to the first room he could - the bathroom - and locked the door behind him, sliding to the ground. He began to sob against his will, clutching the box tightly and glancing inside at his stuff.

"You're going to ruin everything."


	49. You Need A Lot Of Toxin

_Finally beginning to pick it up a little bit more but there is still a lot more to go from here! XD _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Day. _/-^1^-\

Alison heard him lock the door but she didn't hear him come out. He looked pretty shaken up as he went into the bedroom. Alison was just relaxing by that point, she'd had a busy day. Or at least she'd made it busy.

He went and laid down beside her, leaning over and kissing her tummy gently. Her heart still fluttered, like it always had. She knew from the moment she saw him, that she needed at least a kiss out of him. Marriage was better than anything Alison could have hoped for.

Thomas told her marriage wasn't something she ever seemed to care about before. She don't know if that was true but she did know she could still remember what Thomas looked like when he was lying and he didn't look that way. It was funny really - she sometimes felt the damage did her good in ways and made her stronger than what she was before.

Alison had been on a self-destructive road of misery, her life completely passionless and worthless to her. Being in a coma for 4 months (she told Jonathan a few weeks... _I don't know why I lie_) had done some funny things to her. She didn't know if they were for better or for worse but she felt happy now.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Jonathan nodded, lying miserably. "What's wrong?"

"I love you," he whispered. The way he said it every time, was laced full of heart-felt meaning. Alison knew he undoubtedly did, she could just feel how much he loved her. It was amazing, for her, that after nearly 2 years, he still loved her so much.

"That's not a bad thing," she pointed out.

"I know. I just thought I had to say something to make you stop asking. There really is nothing wrong. Upset stomach," he said. She left it there. But she still didn't think he was being 100% honest. _Oh well._

* * *

><p>-^1^\ _Following Week. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan tilted his head and peeked through the window. This thug was calling his name repeatedly in a soft whisper, or trying to through stifled whimpers and sobs. Jonathan raised a brow and nodded to the guard, the better half of his mind asking <em>why did she leave work? She made it impossible for you to work. <em>_**It's a good thing she did. You're so behind; you know you'll get in trouble now if you don't meet the expectations demanded. **__You're- __**going to ruin everything. You keep saying. Trust me here. **__I can't. __**Then you'll pay the price. **_

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following week. Friday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Jonathan nodded dully through the talk - this business meeting. A lowly one. He peeked up at the window, somehow wishing he'd spot Batman ready to burst in and arrest them for their wrongdoings. Because then he could be apprehended and stopped before he got too far. But there was no sign of him because he was elsewhere, presumably. Dealing with whatever else was going on in the crime riddled Gotham.<p>

"Dr. Crane?" came a voice beside him.

"Yes. Thursday, it'll be done," he said, shifting uncomfortably. He hadn't wanted to come here but Scarecrow had warned of the consequences of failure to show - it could result in them targeting Alison and it hadn't gone unnoticed he had got married to her - they had salvaged that information and lightly laced it into conversation, presumably to make a point that they knew he was married to her.

_What a stupid idea! __**Exactly - see, I said I wasn't sure. You should listen to me more. **__But, I really do love her. __**Oh, I know. That's why you have to do this. **__Then it's all over? __**Then it's all over. Get to work, Johnny boy. **_

"Oh, and if he causes you any trouble, just dispose of him appropriately."

"Yeah, will do," nodded Jonathan. One of the thugs glanced at him. Jonathan couldn't get any thinner but somehow had managed it anyway. Everything was getting to him right now.

_**Get to it! You need a lot of toxin. **_

_Do I? Whatever for! _

_**For this to all be over.**_


	50. Something To Say

_There's trouble ahead._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following week. Thursday. _/-^1^-\

Jonathan gazed out onto the street, sulking noticeably. And Alison had noticed many other things too. His eyes tracked her in the window as she came wandering over. She tightened his belt a little and then clutched his shoulders, kissing his neck gently.

"You're not yourself," she remarked.

"I'm just tired. Trying to get back into the swing of being at work," he sighed.

"You'll tell me eventually, won't you?" she asked, raising a brow. He nodded without meaning to, giving away there was something else on his mind. He clenched his eyes shut, angered with himself.

He cupped her cheek and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, intense and passionately. It was a romantic kiss, not a '_get to bed now_' kiss. It had been more desperate than that. It lasted for so long, pushing him onto the verge of being late but he was terrified.

"Wow," smiled Alison, clutching his hand.

"I love you, so so much."

"I love you too... try tell me when you get home. You've got all day to get the nerve to manage it."

"Right," he nodded, tenderly pecking her again before slipping out of the room. "Enjoy... your day at work," he said, stood in the doorway.

"Err... you too," she smiled. That wasn't something they usually said to each other in their morning routine. He managed a half-hearted smile back and closed the door behind him, wiping his brow.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed, wanting to go back and just pour it all out to her. The problems he faced if he did that were too risky though.

On the other side of the door, Alison's heart sank. She wished he'd just come out with whatever it was that he had to say - she was ready to hear anything he might say. She'd probably forgive him, somehow and with some time. Unless it was something inhumane but she just couldn't imagine that being the case.

**/-^1^-\**

Alison paced up and down the kitchen, wanting to scream but knowing she couldn't because that would be misconstrued. To find out that in some way, Jonathan had played a part in the madness that had turned the city upside down in one night. She'd wanted to punch Bruce in the face as he spoke. He spoke as if he expected it - as if he knew something that she didn't know. He'd said he wasn't sure Jonathan was acting sanely at the time.

When she turned around, Jonathan was sat on the kitchen table. His bottoms were tattered and frayed but he'd thrown his jacket to the floor and was unbuttoning his shirt. He threw out the tubes, feeding about the toxin and threw them on top of his blazer. She approached, her jaw tight. He shut his eyes and braced himself.

She slapped him so hard he wanted to cry. He nearly did he was so upset with so many things. He could just tell from how agitated she was that she knew what he'd done.

"It started way back," he whispered, "childhood. Childhood, it wasn't happy and when you're not happy you do stupid things. You do uncharacteristic things. But I lost my way and the things that were never supposed to be a part of my personality just became that way and I am so wayward... I am so lost. I wanted you to save me. You were. You were saving me but I should have tried to save myself too and that is where I went so wrong."

"Start making sense! Just tell me one thing that makes sense!"

"I love you," he whispered, standing up.

"Even that doesn't make sense right now. I need answers."

"I know. It requires more time than I have to give you. Because, I have to go. But I will explain, I promise. I will try put everything right."

"What part did you play?"

"I made the toxin," he whispered, "the toxin that has left the city in terror..."

"Why?"

"Visceral... and I can't explain because that falls back to lack of time, but I'll be back, I give you my word."

"Oh god, I love you," she wailed, "please don't leave me."

"They'll know if you go missing..."

"You would take me if you could?"

"It frightens me that you want to come with me."

"Is this what you didn't tell me? This that was troubling you?"

"Yes."

"I'll go missing anyway. For most of the time. Jonathan, I ought to ... tell you something..."


	51. Ideas

_I think it's been a few days since I put something up so here we go :) _

* * *

><p><strong>-^1^-\**

"I can't believe I'm doing this. But he'll help you to hide," said Alison, glancing at the card cautiously, "Promise me you won't lose this - I'll be so mad at you if you do. You tell him what you've done and tell him I said you need to stick together," she said, handing it over. Jonathan looked at it, trying to understand her handwriting.

"You were mad because he got out in the first place - and then you helped him to stay out?" asked Jonathan, "What? WHAT! I thought _I _was screwed up. You helped The Riddler evade police detection?"

"He came knocking on the office door. I cleaned him up and sent him on his way a bit," she shrugged, "listen, he helped me."

"How?"

"He's keeping me up to date."

"With what's going on? He's like your criminal confidante whilst you play civilian Batman?"

"I'm just a bloody private investigator! I'm one person with two co-workers and I need direction sometimes."

"We're a little criminal mess, aren't we? What do you mean you'll go missing?"

"I don't want to stay."

"No... no, you deserve... you deserve to be happy but you're just going to say I make you happy, aren't you?"

"You_ did_. Well, you do," she whispered, pressing her hands to his bare torso and smirking. Jonathan pushed her off unexpectedly.

"This is no time to fantasise about getting down and dirty, Alison! They're going to look at you closely!" he hissed.

"I refuse to see a problem until given the facts... One for the road," she said, sucking on his neck.

"Wow," he sighed, trying not to enjoy it. His body betrayed him - he clutched her in his arms, ready to go wherever she wanted to take him next. Kitchen table - living room - bed. He managed to stop himself though. "Why don't you hate me?"

"You haven't broken my heart... It's selfish but you didn't do anything to me... Gosh, maybe there's an explanation for all of this and I'll get that one day..."

"Have you lost it?" he frowned. He wanted her to be furious with him for some reason. He'd have to live up to his actions that way. He'd have to acknowledge that in every way his actions were wrong and no one was even slightly lenient. Why could he not get that from _**her**_!

"Don't say that Jonathan," she hissed, glaring at him. She head butted him out of anger but she knocked herself out unexpectedly. He nearly lost hold of her he was so woozy. She turned into a flimsy mess in his arms. He scooped her up, unsure what to do. He was going to leave her on the kitchen table but that would be uncomfortable. _**How about... the *sofa*? **__GOOD IDEA!_

**_|?|?|?|_**

_**Johnny, it's my time to play now. **__Fine... __**Fine? **__Do me one thing, for once in your miserable existence though, will you? __**Depends. **__Don't let me lose Alison. __**I can take care of that. You left the note for her, didn't you? **__Yes... __**well, we've already got our first leg up then. Oh, and for the record, we're not going to find the Riddler. **__No, we are... we'll be closer to Alison that way. Please?_

"Alright... let's do this," said Jonathan, standing up and pulling his mask on. "I hope I know what I'm doing."

He pocketed the card with the address on and set off into the lonely night, flitting through the city joylessly. He'd honestly had no idea things would end up this way. And now they were intent on incarcerating him. And if they did that - he'd never get out. Not now he wouldn't - or at least not yet he wouldn't. Arkham would be under new management.

_Wait... now, that's an idea... __**That's the spirit.**_

* * *

><p><em>Soo.. Review? :D <em>


	52. Help

_I'm changing the rating to an M, because I need to go more into this and Alison is not a stable personality - and this chapter does involve self-harm (so be warned if you dislike that kind of thing) and I want to get a bit more graphic if I can._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Same Week. Next day. Friday _/-^1^-\

Alison opened one eye as someone repetitively jabbed her shoulder. She was about to open both eyes and smile up at Jonathan, apologising for sleeping in late but it wasn't him. And then the past events came flooding into her mind again.

"Dr. MacLeod, are you okay?" asked the officer. _I'm glad I wanted to keep my own surname... _she thought privately.

"I'm fine," she frowned, standing up. "Leave me alone."

"We have strict instructions-"

"You do," she said, walking into the hallway and into her office, locking the door. "Just sleep, Alison," she whispered, "all you have to do is sleep."

**/-^1^-\**

Jonathan reached out to the door handle but it was twisted before he got there. He knew he could get himself into real danger here, so he readied the canister in his sleeve and pushed the door open.

There was nobody stood behind, and cautiously he ventured in a little further into the gloomy corridor. He could hear music playing somewhere. _**That's the Beatles, isn't it? **__I know. It's 'Help'. _

He followed the sound of the music to find the Riddler sat in a rocking chair, going back and forth whilst he listened to the Beatles on a record player. The scene was baffling. The Riddler raised a brow, smirking and turned his head to Jonathan.

"Dr. Crane! I heard you got yourself into a spot of bother."

"... You could say that."

**/-^1^-\**

"Is she okay?" asked Bruce.

"She's locked herself in her office. We're not sure," frowned the officer.

"So, you just sat there and do nothing about it?" asked Bruce, looking over them.

"He's alright," nodded Gordon approaching from behind Bruce and stepping inside. Bruce ran inside and hammered on the door furiously. Alison didn't reply.

"I'll pay," said Bruce, stamping on the door with his foot and kicking it clean off. There was a scream from her, but it sounded more pain stricken.

Bruce couldn't comprehend the sight that met him at first. There were multiple bottles of wine laying around the room, so she was intoxicated. But there was also several sewing needles lying on the floor, to his horror, with blood on the tips. He turned to Alison who was slumped on the floor.

There were many little wounds made by the needles, she'd been pressing them into her arms and legs. But now she had a knife. She'd been teasing it over her skin without actually cutting too deeply but when the door had flown open she had jumped and penetrated the skin, leaving a pouring wound in the back of her hand and down her arm.

"Alison!" cried Bruce, dropping to her side.

"Snap to it! We're gonna need an ambulance," said Gordon to one of the officers who was stood, dumbfound.

Bruce cradled Alison in his arms as she broke down and sobbed.

"What have we done?" he asked in a whisper, devastated by the turn of events.

**/-^1^-\**

"You knew," said Alison, clenching her jaw, "you knew he was up to something and you didn't bother to tell me. Why didn't you say anything? I got married to him. Just a few weeks ago, LESS than a month... and already it's over. It's already messed up. Everything."

"You were so happy... I couldn't bring myself to shatter your happiness."

"It's shattered anyway, Bruce. It really is. Now it's had time to sink in, here," she whispered, pointing at her head, "and find myself thinking... God, I was just a product in a visage he made. I don't know what to do with myself. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT TO DO! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO LOSE THE ONE THING THAT MADE YOU HAPPY IN YOUR MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR EXISTENCE? ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT IT WASN'T EVEN REAL!"

"Alison, I think he really did love you. Does love you, even."

"FUCK!" she wailed, shaking her head, "FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. EVERYTHING FUCKS UP," she screamed, yanking on the restrains in the hope she could somehow get free of them. "Why have they done this to me?" she whispered.

"Maybe because you've given yourself 42 injuries out of desperation-"

"Out of desperation? Out of _loathing_, out of _hatred_, out of the need to feel something other than _numbness_ for _once_. I'm all over the place. I'll always be all over the place, won't I? I'm never going to get rid of it," she whispered, bursting into tears, "you've all screwed me over, you assholes. All of you."

"I'll come back tomorrow-"

"DON'T BOTHER BRUCE!" she screamed, thrashing about.

"Goodbye Alison."

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following week. Tuesday. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>Alison gazed up at the ceiling. The blank and empty ceiling. The room was so lifeless it was making her more miserable. But it brightened up for a second, as the door was opened and Jonathan crept in. She sat up, astonished at first before realising he had caused half of the problems she had now, and it was because of him she was in a psychiatric hospital. He sat on the edge of the bed and swept her hair back. She didn't want to, but she grinned, kissing his hand.<p>

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "You have to get out of here."

"I don't want to get out. I'm not happy but I'm safe."

"You're not safe. They'll strip you of your personality."

"No... I've been in a hospital like this before," she insisted.

"Did you harm yourself that time?" he questioned, leaning over her. He pinned her arms back against the bed. She smiled lightly at first but he pressed down harder.

"Jonathan?"

"I'm so mad at you. I can't believe you'd do that to us! You were supposed to try harder. And I was going to explain to you why I did what I did and we'd get over it in time! But APPARENTLY you don't want that because you tried to get out of life by yourself!"

She trembled as he pressed his knee into her stomach.

"NO!" she pleaded, "STOP! YOU'RE HURTING ME!"

"GOOD! I hope I am, because you've torn me to bits!"

"YOU DID IT TO ME FIRST!"

"BUT I WAS GOING TO PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER!" he yelled, striking her across the face, "YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH!" he hissed, clamping his hand around her throat, ready to squeeze.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"I GASSED THEM ALL... NO ONE IS GOING TO HELP YOU!"

"PLEASE! NO-"

He tightened his grip slowly, restricting her breath. She flailed and gasped, exerting more energy which she should have kept dear just to be able to hold on for longer. This was not how she wanted to die - not by his hand. It hurt so much. He was hurting her so much. She needed everything to just end.


	53. Welcome Back

_I think I may have been negligent for a few days, I shall compensate. _

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _Following Day. _/-^1^-\

Thomas treaded into the office and glanced at the needles on the floor, taking a sharp breath in. The knife was on the floor too, they must have just rushed her out of the place. He turned to the pictures on the sideboard and picked up one from Alison and Jonathan's wedding.

"You didn't break her heart, you shattered her soul you bastard," he whispered, planting it face down. He was heartbroken. He was devastated beyond belief, Alison meant the world to him. There'd always been something amazing about her, some mystifying grace that required you to follow.

"Pull yourself together, Tom," he whispered, sniffing and drying his eyes, "She wants her teddy bear," he said to himself, leaving and glancing at the bag in the hallway with a few of her possessions in.

He traipsed upstairs and picked the teddy up off the bed. It was oddly heavy, he observed. He looked for an opening, almost momentarily amused to find that it was in the teddies back-side. He put his hand up, almost like pulling on a puppet, and pulled out a bag.

"Fuck!" he cried.

**/-^1^-\**

Alison woke up slowly and sighed. Thomas was stood at the foot of her bed, looking so angry and displeased. He threw her stuffed bear at her.

"Magic mushrooms!" he spat, "And, could I suppose that you were taking them yesterday too, when 'Jonathan' came in and 'strangled' you."

"It was a bad trip, it wasn't supposed to happen."

"No, what isn't supposed to happen is you taking drugs! Do you not think, sometimes, that you are the sole cause of your madness, Alison?" he hissed.

"Don't do this to me, I can't have someone else walk out on my life-"

"I will never _ever _walk out on your life. It'll always be you who walks out on me, Ally. But Jonathan... he hasn't walked out on you, has he? He's moved you aside for the time being. If you start to believe he's gone you'll be in turmoil when he returns. And he is going to," said Thomas, holding up a letter.

Alison took it and opened it up.

'_Alison,_

_This is the second letter of apology I have written to you. Right now, it's the only way I can convey my sorrow. I'm where I need to be; where you want me to be. So, you can get to me, you can talk to me. I hope you will. __I know at first it might be difficult, because of what I've done. But, please - you have to forgive me. Not just yet, because that would ridiculous if you did because you don't yet have any reason to but I can give you them. But it's something I need to give you to your face._

_And I will. I promise you I will. You will get to hear everything if you want to. __It's deeper than you may think._

_And I need you to know, also, that I do love you. I always did. When I scared you on Halloween, I realised then. I was so upset to think I'd hurt you somehow. You were never, ever, just an illusion of a happy man, you really do make me a happy man. And it's only with that thought that I haven't given up completely. You may think I'm making things worse for myself, but you said it yourself - ever noticed Arkham is like a care home for the insane? Ever noticed hardly anyone gets out - and when they do, they're always back in?_

_Well I can't risk that. I can't risk that currently inevitable fate and I am trying to change it. I need to play my cards right. I pray they play me back into your heart. It's the only place I ever felt normal._

_I love you, so much. I really do._

_Love the man you made smile.' _

"Do you believe him?"

"Do I have autonomy in my answer?"

"Yes."

"I do."

"Funnily enough, so do I," growled Thomas, sitting back. He didn't want to believe it though. Something just wouldn't let him disbelieve it however.

"We need to get me out of here."

"How? They said a couple of weeks at minimum."

"I'm Alison MacLeod. And that is how we get me out of here."

"Nice to see you again, Alison MacLeod," whispered Thomas. He glanced at her curiously, realising there was something in her that he hadn't seen for a long time. He went to say something but words temporarily failed him.

"What?" she asked.

"Welcome back."

* * *

><p><em>Bad trips, bad stuff. But at least Alison isn't dead.<em>


	54. Flawless Planing Required

/-^1^-\ _Following Day. _/-^1^-\

* * *

><p>The doctor came into her room and sat on the end of her bed, half smiling but half frowning.<p>

"Hello?"

"Alison, I have some news but I'm not sure if its good or bad."

"Well, how are you not sure?"

"It depends on your outlook," he grimaced, "you're pregnant, about 2 months pregnant."

"2 months?" she whispered, choking on those two tiny little words. "Oh no! Oh no!" she began to cry, "what have I done!"

"What do you mean?"

"The alcohol, the drugs?" she whispered, clutching her head.

"Things can be done!" he insisted quickly, "But... did you take drugs?"

"Shrooms," she whispered, blinking rapidly, "What have I done?"

"We don't know that it's done anything yet. If you want to keep the-"

"Of course I do," she hissed.

"Well, a lot of women do drink in the first month when they don't know, especially if they weren't trying to get pregnant. Were you trying?"

"No. We were going to wait a bit."

"Alison. I know that it's his baby but it isn't healthy you loving him still. He's dangerous."

"You don't turn off affection for someone like that. Don't think I'll listen properly in therapy, to the idea that it's bad for me. I know it is. It's terrible. But I'm not letting it rule my life. I didn't go away and did what I did because of him, I started about a week before things happened and I didn't know they would happen."

"Oh? Why didn't you tell us this?"

"I thought that the chances of you believing that were very slim."

"I believe you Alison," he nodded, "I'll give you some time to think. Your friend is here?"

"Thomas?"

"Mr. Wayne."

Alison stood up and paced about her little room. It was actually quite comfortable. She'd begged not to go to a busy clinic, because she worried that, like Arkham, she wouldn't get out. And she needed to.

Bruce came in and clutched her in his arms tightly.

"You knew," she whispered.

"It's hard to burst someone's bubble that way. If I could have predicted this would have been the outcome then I swear I'd have told you."

"Well, there's no point in getting caught up over it now. It's happened anyway, whether you knew or not."

"I feel guilty."

"Not as guilty as I do. He spent so long trying to soak up my problems... and I don't think I really asked about his."

"Problems?"

"Don't tell me you can't see that he has them. He's three different men trapped in one body and they can't find peace."

"What?"

"There's the one you see, standoffish and a bit callous at times, but privately just shy. There's the man I see, loving and playful and happy, though a bit desperate sometimes. Then there's the one that nobody sees unless they look closely enough - the guy who doesn't change until you take his mask off. He's dark, foreboding and caught up in turmoil. And I knew that. So why didn't I ever help him?" she whispered, "There's never any harmony in his head... never any balance."

"You're not blaming yourself, are you?"

"No. I'm blaming many things. I play my part, but I'm not suggested I caused this."

"Good. Alison, do you have any idea where he is?"

Alison considered telling Bruce. He could go find them. But then on the other hand, she needed to be certain she could get Jonathan out of Arkham. She sighed and shook her head.

"I wish I did," she replied. "I have sort of good news."

"Hmm?"

"I'm pregnant?" she shrugged.

"Are you happy about that?"

"I'm thrilled. I am. Others won't be," she laughed, "Johnny would be."

"Others?"

"Oh, you know... people who see him as a callous and wicked fiend?"

"We have some working out to do, don't we?"

"Yeah..." she nodded, drifting off into a bit of a daydream. _Get me some pens, paper and some spoons and I'll work everything out, to the most flawless extent I can._

* * *

><p><em>For me, this is a fairly short chapter but more to come soon :)<em>


	55. Jonathan's Back

/-^1^-\ _2 weeks later. Monday. _/-^1^-\

Alison climbed into the car with Thomas, gazing back at the care home.

"How did you do it, Alison?"

"Ever looked into the head of someone who's insane? I mean, deeply looked. Not just seen what's out on the surface? Because if you're armed with that knowledge, it's easy for you to do the right things to make you sound sane. Fool them into thinking you've made progress. It's what half of the inmates in Arkham did. They tricked you but there you didn't believe anyone. Here, it's a bit different."

"You're saying you lied?"

"I didn't slash my arm wide open on purpose, I was pricking myself with needles so no one could see. And at that time, I was drunk and stoned. I know I'd never normally do that... well, at least I never suspected I would."

"Your method was to go out drinking a lot and occasionally get stoned. That was how you became self-destructive. I know it's wrong... but I thanked your head injury for pretty much taking that away and now I'm not so sure you've completely forgotten. I think bits of things you pushed down are beginning to return."

"You mean _I'm _beginning to return?"

Thomas didn't reply, he started the car and drove to a hotel. Alison stepped out, not sure why they were there. Thomas pulled out a suitcase from the back though and planted it down before her.

"I don't think you should go home just yet. Stay a bit with me, reenergise yourself and we'll... work this out," he grimaced.

"Okay," she nodded, smiling wryly.

"We're in a twin room," he said, entering in with her and getting into the lift. Alison frowned, expecting him to say more but he didn't.

"Cool," she said, shaking her head.

Thomas glanced at the floor and stepped out at the doors opened, Alison following behind like a sulky child. He opened up the room door with the key and stepped inside, putting her suitcase down on the floor. Alison went straight for the bathroom first and glanced inside, grinning.

"A shower! Yes!" she cheered. "Oh, and that way it makes it very difficult for me to kill myself, doesn't it!" she grinned falsely. Thomas took a sharp breath in.

"That's not funny, Alison."

"Isn't it? Can't we giggle at crazy little me, is that wrong?"

"What's with you?"

"I'm free! You might have thought that it was nice and pretty in that little room but it drove me up the wall! This is more space than I've had for a few weeks now, it's almost foreign."

"What have you taken?"

"Nothing! I wouldn't dare do that, Thomas. Not now."

"Not now? You've been given medication from the care home haven't you?"

"I didn't tell you?" she asked, "Tommy, I'm pregnant!"

"Shit!"

"Shit!" she hissed, "What do you mean 'shit'?"

"Come on it's not the ... best of events that could happen."

"It would have been if Jonathan wasn't now a 'criminal' wouldn't it?" she said lowly. Thomas couldn't help but feel very afraid, and like he was in a lot of danger currently. "It would have, yes. Because that would just make us a bigger family. It would give us our little baby, who would grow up living a perfect little life in a lovely home and neighbourhood, attending a nice school with other nice girls and boys. That would be fine! The current situation, no it's terrible. It's _shit_! But, I can still have that lovely little life, you _idiot_! I bet Jon could too! Don't dare turn around and say 'shit' when I tell you I am pregnant, you ass!" she snarled, running into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

"NO! ALISON! DON'T!"

"Don't top myself? I'm not stupid, Thomas. I'm here for some peace and quiet! Tell me when you need to shit."

**/-^1^-\**

Alison climbed into her bed, turning on her side to look over at Thomas who was obviously awake.

"Remember the school residential where there was a huge butterfly on the wall and you screamed and woke everyone up?" asked Thomas. Alison smiled and nodded. "I'm reminded of it because we were in opposite beds, weren't we?"

"Yes."

"Alison, I thought you'd be less than pleased about being pregnant. Of course I think it's wonderful, I think you need support though."

"I know," she whispered, "night," she said, turning around.

She gazed ahead, trying to work out if there was really somebody stood there. The light was way too dim for her to be able to tell though. She sat up a little, blinking quickly. The figure held out one arm towards her. She pulled the cover back and approached.

"Jonathan," she whispered, taking his hand. He pulled her around into his arms, gripping both of her hands.

"I love you," he said softly, lowering his head and kissing her neck.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, "It's dangerous!"

"Alison, what are you doing?" asked Thomas, turning the lamp on. His eyes widened with horror as Jonathan held up a gun at him. Alison pressed her hand down on it, even able to feel Jonathan relax when he realised it was Thomas.

"No shooting," she warned.

"Unloaded," he whispered in her ear so only she could hear. She shook her head and sighed.

"Doesn't matter. The thought is bad enough."

"This is crazy. You should leave, Jonathan. I think you should leave."

"I'm here because we need to talk. Don't you think we need to talk? We can't just sit around wishing things would sort themselves out - we need a plan," he insisted. "Please?" he begged Alison. She turned to him, clinging onto him and nodding.

"I need you," she whispered.

"I need you too."

* * *

><p><em>Slowly beginning to pick up speed again :)<em>


	56. So Help Me

_Ahhh, I've neglected it for a few days. I apologies. And currently, this chapter is just to tie up a few things so yet again... sloooow progress._

* * *

><p>-^1^-\ _3 weeks ago. _/-^1^-\

_"SHE KNOWS BATMAN!" roared the Riddler, slamming Jonathan up to the wall with a threatening glare. Jonathan panicked a little bit._

_"I mean... yeah... she does... it's a... nightmare. She didn't rat you out, she wouldn't rat me out."_

_"Why did she send you to *me*?" quizzed the Riddler, "do you not think that is a little strange? She gets us in one place, a place which she KNOWS about, and informs that freak in tights of our whereabouts! For 'your sake'. We need to leave."_

_"We, so you're taking me with you?"_

_"No, me and my alter ego, Crane. Yes. You and I."_

_"Right... sure, because that's a better plan than being hidden down a thin alley way in a derelict apartment? Of course," nodded Jonathan sarcastically._

_"Oh shut up you. There was me thinking Cloudy was taking a big risk to help me out. No, I was taking the risk! Come on!"_

_Jonathan's head snapped to the door where the Riddle... Edward (might as well be on friendly terms as he was now a budding criminal too) was bouncing out of the door. He snatched up the Beatles record along the way and bulleted out of the door._

**/-^1^-\**

_Jonathan yanked his hat up, in disbelief. They were ... somewhere. I didn't look like Gotham. He turned to Eddie and scowled._

_"Are you taking the piss?" he asked, glancing at the corn fields._

_"I'm taking the safe roads."_

_"Someone's hitchhiking."_

_"We don't have to stop... Shit..."_

_"What?"_

_"Look... shit, shit, shit... he's got a gun."_

_"That's a gun!" gasped Jonathan, leaning forward. It was aimed at them, but the guy still had his thumb stuck out. "What do we do?"_

_"We drive on by and say we can't because we're picking up a cow?" suggested Ed. Jonathan frowned._

_"A cow?"_

_"Farm," shrugged Ed._

_"Just turn around. I feel like a teenager in a poorly made movie who knows it's a bad idea to carry on and does it anyway."_

_"Yeah," nodded Eddie, swerving around. A bullet pierced the back window instantly. They recoiled together, coming to a halt._

_The man approached, tapping on the window. Jonathan looked at him. __**Well, he is hideous**__. He was quite repulsive. Greasy hair, grubby skin, rotting teeth. A grin that was way too wide to be natural. It was hard to tell under so much make up whether it was just an effect or real, but it looked like his mouth had actually been hacked at the corners to accommodate ... that 'grin'._

_"Please... I need to be somewhere," said the man casually, glancing at his knife in his hand._

_"We need to pick up a ... cow," muttered Ed. _

_"Oh, I could do with beef," nodded the man, "let me in, gimme a ride?" _

_"Sure," nodded Ed, frowning though. The man rubbed the tip of the gun across Eddie's lips like it was lipstick._

_"Smile!" he cheered, hoping into the back haphazardly - literally, through the window. It smashed but this madman just sat on the tiny little pieces contently. "AHA! Hey, look it's you," he said, pointing the gun at Jonathan. He was used to holding the gun; he was now using it in place of his hand. "Scarecrow!"_

_"What?" gasped Jonathan, turning around. He moved aside a bit from the gun._

_"Haven't you ever heard of the news?" remarked the man sarcastically._

_"Yes. It is me... who might you be?"_

_"Just a guy who's hungry as hell. Where's that cow?" asked the nutter._

**/-^1^-\**

_The car ride was intense. And for some reason, tame. Eddie was slow enough they were almost starting to go back in time they weren't moving fast enough to catch up._

_"Where's the beef?" asked the man, "you said you were getting a cow."_

_"Yeah... I think we've had our leg pulled," frowned Jonathan, sighing._

_"Goddamn them. Well at least we didn't make any deals," Eddie pretended._

_"What were you going to do with a cow anyway?"_

_"Experiment," shrugged Jonathan. "We need to settle for the night, Ed."_

_"I know. Here looks good."_

_"Does it?" quizzed the man._

_"Yes," said Jonathan and Eddie together, angrily._

**/-^1^-\**

_"We have to lose him!" cried Eddie. Jonathan pressed a finger to his lips._

_"He might be listening," he warned, checking up on Alison's last known whereabouts. "My wife is in hospital..."_

_"Alison... is she... is she okay?"_

_"Psychiatric hospital. Shit, what have I done?"_

_"Can't you go find her?"_

_"How! I need the car and that loon is... well, I'm afraid I won't get to her alive because I'll have bullets rolling out of my eye sockets!"_

_"Eww!" cried Eddie._

_"Right, yeah. I know," Jonathan frowned. Even he was disgusted by that idea. "We could run now..."_

_"Hello!" came a cry, followed by furious knocking. _

_"It's him," hissed Eddie._

_They just couldn't lose him. He followed them for the next 4 days until they were driven back into nearly the center of Gotham. Then he suddenly got out and left. They didn't understand, but they left as fast as they could._

_Jonathan went to his house, opening it up and checking inside. It seemed clear. He looked around, horrified to find blood on the floor. He followed it into the study, spotting the knife and needles scattered on the floor, a bottle - its contents drying on the floor, and a plastic bag. He scooped down and picked the bag up, placing the letter on the sideboard._

_"Drugs?" he muttered to himself. "That's a quick breakdown, honey. I promise I'll do my best to save you, if you'll let me..." he sighed, taking out of a photograph from one of the frames and pocketing it. The door went. He shot into the cupboard, holding the canister out at the ready. He peeked through the edge of the door. Thomas wandered in. Picked up a frame._

_"You didn't break her heart, you shattered her soul you bastard."_

_"I know," mouthed Jonathan, running his fingers over the photo in his pocket. __**We'll get to the end of this, soon enough. Remember we can't afford to risk so much. **_

_"Pull yourself together, Tom," said Thomas, pulling his sleeve across his eyes, "she wants her teddy bear."_

_Jonathan waited until he heard Thomas walked up the stairs before he left the cupboard. He threw the letter out into the hallway and left the way he'd come, running back down the road to the car._

**/-^1^-\**

_"Jonathan!" hissed the Riddler sharply, holding up a finger for silence. Jonathan hadn't been speaking anyway; he'd been gazing out of the window, thinking about the encounter from a few days ago. He now knew where Alison was. And he'd wait... and when she got out, he'd go to her and sort them out. _

_He turned to Eddie, glancing at the TV. His eyes widened, with shock and horror and disbelief._

_"Is that the guy! The hitchhiker!" _

_"Yes..."_

_"He's called The Joker... bloody... bloody hell. Jonathan... we brought him into Gotham!"_

_"Shit!"_

_"HE'S STEALING OUR DOMINATION! LIMELIGHT! But, he's just not... we shouldn't have brought him here... What have we done?" _

_**Holy shit. What HAVE we done! We can't sort that out... it's too dangerous... SHIT! **_

_"We've got Batman," said Jonathan, shaking his head. Although he was finding it hard to live with the fact they'd been the Joker's means of access in to Gotham. He would drive the city mad._

_**I've blown up my family life, psychologically destroyed my wife, messed up my career which was actually fine and lost nearly everything I have apart from my sometimes shitty research. And well... now I've brought a killer to town! What the fuck has it been worth, really? All of this crap! **_I'm still here, Jonathan. _**Well I'm in control now... Remember that. **_You're still messed up. You won't be able to solve it all. _**No, I don't imagine I will be able to... but I can try my best. We'll get through. We have to now... don't we... Especially before I become 'Daddy'? **_We've got 7 months. We do. _**I'm beginning to like you... **_I don't know why you didn't anyway. I'm only trying to help you. _**So help me now...**_

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><p><em>I said in the description that the Joker would be involved XD. Still not quite sticking to the films as faithfully as I could but I guess that's the point. <em>


	57. Major Mistakes

_I know it's been a while. Sorry._

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><p>Alison stormed around the house, tidying, picking things up. Cleaning the counter tops. She didn't need to, they were immaculate already. It had been the first thing she did when they entered the house. Clean. And flung all of the drugs in the house down the toilet. And then smashed every single bottle of alcohol. She went a bit crazy in all honesty.<p>

"I can't believe you... brought a MURDERER into Gotham..."

"Well, sweetie we were at gun point," frowned Jonathan, keeping his eyes peeled on the window. **_Wish I'd have kept the keys to the old house. _**_Why? **Just might have helped. The garden, you know? She loved it. It's just grass outside here. ****We will manage, won't we? **I hope so. I think so._

She was livid with him. She then spent an hour ignoring him, despite him trying to put across to her the danger he'd been in. He asked her to imagine him not being there. He had never received such a cold look from his wife and she could be pretty damn scary. **_She is Scottish, after all. _**The look had told him to not dare mention such an idea again and he wasn't intending to. He couldn't imagine leaving her alone, really.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, glancing her directly in the eyes. She was still seething. He could feel the heat of her fury, baking him slowly. It was seasoned with guilt.

"I had faith, Jonathan. I did. I really didn't expect you to get lower than you already have."

"Lower?" frowned Jonathan, approaching Alison.

She backed off.

_She's scared! **I know! What the hell do I do? **I don't know, aren't you behind the steering wheel now Jonathan? Isn't that what you said? **I have to do the unthinkable. I kept this, even if I hated what it did to us. It's the most screwed up souvenir in the world. I'll gas her - low dosage, remember? It was what I was going to hit her with on Halloween. It's not the full effect. **Wait, think about it you prick! And how would it even help? **I prove to her she doesn't need to be afraid of me and guide her through the experience... she thinks I'm mad. So, I prove to her I care... flawless- **FLAWED! JONATHAN, REMEMBER SHE'S-_

Jonathan help up the canister and sprayed it. Alison was thankfully unaware because she had her back turned to him, glancing out of the window absent mindedly. The effects of this particular strain of the toxin would produce something just a little more violent than a panic attack. She may hallucinate, she may not. But she had BPD... he hadn't thought about that.

_J__onathan! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, JONATHAN! **WHAT? **SHE'S PREGNANT! YOU IDIOT! WE DON'T KNOW WHAT IT DOES TO PREGNANT WOMEN! SHE TOLD YOU! SHE TOLD YOU! _

"Shit... honey? Alison," he whimpered, touching her shoulder. She gasped and turned around to him, clutching her slightly enlarged tummy. "Sit," he instructed, pulling out a chair. She favoured the ground and lowered down there.

"I think... I think I'm..."

"Shh..." soothed Jonathan, trying to drown his own terror. "I'm so sorry... I am so sorry... What do I do?" he whispered. He wanted a reply from both Alison and from Scarecrow.

"Help me," cried Alison.

_**Help her. You help her. **_

_What are you doing? _

_**You're just not in control. I'm helping us all here, trust me. You idiot, Jonathan... you idiot... **_

_You actually do care... _

_**Of course I do.**_

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><p><em><em>This is a diddy little chapter, I know _ <em>I have just started back at college and I didn't want to neglect this too badly, but I have had work thrown at me, nearly literally. So, whilst I will be updating again, soonish - not right away. I apologise but what I am going to do is write-write-write and then go back to daily posting :) so give me just a teeny tiny little bit of time... and don't flea! I'm just keeping you out of the dark for now, apologies._


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